


Misunderstandings

by Zedoktor



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 05:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12450813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zedoktor/pseuds/Zedoktor
Summary: Medic desires Heavy... but Heavy has a problem with Spy, his closest friend, and seemingly hates gay men. Medic plans to suffer in silence, because Heavy would hate him if he really knew how he felt - or would he?With a little help from Spy, maybe this can all work out.





	1. Chapter 1

Now that the last of Engineer’s scrap piles had been moved to the workshop, the team finally had a usable rec room again. Heavy had wasted no time in setting up a table and chairs to play poker, claiming that he had won Sasha in a game a long time ago and wanted to make sure he was not getting rusty. Demo had nailed together a crude bar, of all things, and proved that he was at least as good at mixing cocktails as he was explosives. The space was finished with two long couches and and a few armchairs, and a pair of planks sitting on blocks that served as a coffee table.  
  
The Friday night poker game was in full swing when Medic walked in. Heavy was grinning evilly at Soldier and Scout as they tossed down their hands, only to groan when Demo revealed his and pulled the chips toward him. One couch was taken up by Sniper, who was fully stretched out on it and reading a book. Spy was sitting in one of the armchairs, sipping red wine and looking for all the world as if he were in a Mediterranean hotel.

He lifted a spare glass, and gestured to Medic. _“Good evening, Doctor. A little nightcap, perhaps?”_  
  
 _“Of course, my friend,”_ Medic said gratefully, and sank into the chair beside him. _“Thank you, Spy.”_  
  
They talked in German, as always. It had been such a relief to Medic when he learnt that Spy was fluent in more than French and English, and it had cemented their friendship. There were other things of course – similar interests, for example – but the chance to talk freely in his native tongue was a blessing.  
  
 _“A long day of fighting today,”_ Spy remarked. _“I think we all spent a little too long in Respawn, no?”_  
  
 _“Indeed.”_ Medic sampled the wine. _“Oh, this is quite good. How did you get it into the base?”_  
  
 _“Contacts, of course. The same source that supplies me with my magazines, if you must know.”_ Spy waggled his eyebrows conspiratorially. _“I have a few more that you might be interested in later.”_  
  
Medic chuckled. _“Ah yes, I expect I would be. And I have a one to return to you – unsoiled this time, I promise.”_  
  
Spy laughed at him. He wondered if the Frenchman would ever let him live that incident down. His magazines were so delightfully wicked, though…  
  
Spy nudged him. _“So,”_ he said, _“have you talked to your great Russian bear yet?”_  
  
Medic’s heart sank. Spy wouldn’t believe that there was no hope, but he knew better. There was nothing quite so depressing as unrequited love – or possibly lust, he could hardly tell sometimes. And the source of his consternation was sitting not ten feet away, and entirely oblivious.  
  
He had been nervous about it at first, but it was clear that they didn’t understand. No one bar he and Spy spoke German. It was unusual to be able to talk freely about his preference for both men and women with someone who thought the same, and no one else would ever know. They had taken to discussing all manner of things – some truly scandalous – right under the noses of their teammates, and most sensitive of all was Medic’s desire for his Heavy Weapons Specialist.  
  
Spy was of the opinion that he could be talked around. They were in a remote base, after all, and there were no women for miles. Medic did not agree.  
  
 _“No, I have not spoken to him, and I never will,”_ he said with a sigh. _“You know how he reacted when you taunted Scout with one of your magazines. I do not want to face that kind of dislike, not from him.”_  
  
 _“Yes, I know,”_ Spy said with exasperation. _“You never get tired of telling me. But you will never change his mind if you do not at least try, Doctor. I believe anyone can be tempted…”_  
  
 _“Hm. So you say. I think otherwise.”_ Medic sighed again. _“I wish I could be as open as you, my friend, but I value what camaraderie I have with Heavy. I don’t want him to look on me like he looks on you. He is so nice to me…”_  
  
Spy patted his arm in consolation. _“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I do not think you have any competition – certainly not from me, of course, and I don’t think any of the others share our preferences.”_  
  
Medic shrugged. _“It hardly matters while the man finds the idea itself so distasteful.”_ He took the bottle and poured them both a little more wine. _“What about you? You did mention someone had caught your eye.”_  
  
Spy smiled coyly into his glass. _“Perhaps, perhaps not. There is someone I like to look at and admire from a distance, but whether I manage to steal more than hidden glances still remains to be seen.”_  
  
 _“Oh, just tell me. It’s not like there are many to choose from here.”_  
  
 _“No, no, you must guess,”_ Spy said with a laugh, and Medic couldn’t help smiling too. _“Go on, guess! It is easy.”_  
  
Medic looked around the room. He discounted Soldier, because the man was patently mad, and Heavy, because Spy had said he wasn’t interested. It certainly wasn’t him – although they both enjoyed men, their tastes were wildly different.  
  
From a distance, hm… maybe that was the clue. Medic’s gaze alighted on Sniper, who was still reading quietly. Spy’s chair was angled in just such a way that he could watch him without being obvious about it.  
  
He looked at his friend, not totally surprised but at least a little curious. _“It’s the bushman, is it not?”_  
  
 _“Heh, yes. Am I really that obvious?”_  
  
 _“Not at all. I am simply good at guessing.”_ Medic regarded Sniper thoughtfully for a moment. _“He seems too unrefined for your tastes.”_  
  
 _“That is part of what I like, Doctor,”_ Spy said. He watched Sniper covertly, and from the look on his face, Medic also guessed that he was picturing something quite filthy. _“So wild, so manly, so deliciously feral. I can only imagine what it would be like to be devoured by him.”_  
  
The poker game turned sour as Soldier threw in his cards for the last time, and stomped out of the room grumbling. Heavy waved at Medic, and pointed at the free chair.  
  
“Doktor, we have space now in game! You would like to join?”  
  
Medic shook his head, and reached for the wine again. “Ah – nein, danke. I am quite tired, Herr Heavy, und I am not so good at cards.” The big man looked intensely disappointed, and glared angrily at Spy.  
  
Scout turned around in his chair and sneered at the Frenchman. “You sure about that, Doc? I’m pretty sure Faggy McFaggerton over there doesn’t have anything to talk about other than how he likes dicks and ass.”  
  
“We are talking about cultured things, boy,” Spy said, no hint of malice in his eyes. “You would not understand, of course, seeing as you are not quite as worldly as we are.” The silly insult simply rolled off his back. He loved to taunt Scout about his youth, sexual inexperience, and obvious homophobia. His greatest success so far had to be the magazine incident, where he had managed to make his young teammate flee the room in embarrassment with a very noticeable bulge in his pants. Cruel, possibly, but he and Medic had both laughed about it too much to care.  
  
Scout went red. “Yeah, well, what kind of things, faggot? I bet I know a lot more than you do.”  
  
“Food, actually,” Medic said quickly. “French delicacies. Ve were discussing vhat foods ve love to… devour more zan any ozzers.” He exchanged a look with Spy, and they both chuckled.  
  
“That’s like frogs’ legs and snails, isn’t it?” Scout said in disgust. “That ain’t real food! I bet you Frenchies eat that shit ‘cos you can’t catch anything better, 'cos you’re all faggots.” He sat back, apparently satisfied that his line of reasoning was unassailable.  
  
“I wouldn’t knock it 'til ya try it, kid,” Sniper said suddenly from the couch.  
  
“Oh yeah? What would you know about it, Mr Bug-Eater?”  
  
Sniper put his book down and hoisted himself up on his elbows. “I did a job once in Nantes, in the north of France. Spent a week hiding over this fancy restaurant waiting fer the hit, and I ate like a bloody king every night. Best food I’ve ever had, bar none, and I never saw any frogs’ legs or snails either.”  
  
“Why, Sniper,” Spy said, as Scout snorted and turned back to his cards, “I am surprised! I did not think a hunter such as yourself would be familiar with French haute cuisine.”  
  
At this point, Medic was trying very hard not to laugh, considering their earlier conversation. Sniper hadn’t picked up on it yet, thankfully. He settled down onto the couch again, and returned to his book. “Just because the juvenile delinquent over there doesn’t know good grub doesn’t mean we’re all ignorant,” he muttered.  
  
“Really,” Spy purred. He leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand and a truly unnerving smile on his face. “Do tell me more about this French food you tried. I imagine you… took your time eating, and savoured every bite?”  
  
At this point Sniper sat up properly, and glared at Medic. He couldn’t help himself; his shoulders shook with restrained laughter and he had one hand over his mouth to hide his grin. “Wot the hell is so bloody funny?” he demanded. “Is he laughing at me?”  
  
Spy kicked Medic in the shin without looking away from Sniper. “Non, of course not. It is nothing – merely a personal joke. Please, continue.”  
  
“Yes,” Medic gasped. “A personal joke. Not very funny, but I am very tired, and I zink I vill go to bed early tonight.” He rose, leaving the last of the wine to Spy. He didn’t think he could stay without laughing himself silly, and Spy’s attention was elsewhere now.  
  
He paused at the door, letting his gaze linger on Heavy’s broad shoulders. As he closed it behind him, he heard Sniper’s voice.  
  
“Well, there was this thing they did with sausages, dunno if you’ve heard of it…”


	2. Chapter 2

Medic stopped by Spy’s room a few hours later. He knocked, heard a muffled response, and opened the door curiously.  
  
 _“Spy? Are you here?”_ He saw him sitting at his desk, balaclava tossed to one side and the suit jacket nowhere to be seen. His eye was dark and bruised, and blood was running from his nose. Spy was carefully dabbing his face with a cloth and a bowl of water.  
  
 _“My god, what happened to you?”_ Medic immediately went to him, and lifted his head carefully to check his injuries. _“Who did this?”_

Spy batted his hand away. _“Ah, it is nothing, my friend. A mere annoyance. You are here very late, I had thought you had gone to bed?”_ He seemed remarkably cheerful for a man who looked like he had been beaten up. _“Oh, you brought back the magazine? Thank you very much.”_  
  
Medic stared at him, and tossed the magazine onto the bed before sitting down himself. _“Spy, who did you anger this time? Was it Sniper? You should not have tried to talk to him so, the man is not stupid -”_  
  
 _“No, no, you don’t realize!”_ Spy took a hold of Medic’s hands in excitement oblivious to the blood still staining his face. _“It is better than I could have hoped for! Oh, you didn’t see it, he was magnificent, I tell you!”_  
  
 _“Stop babbling, man, tell me what happened.”_ Medic could not make any sense of what he was saying. It was clearly something good, but how then had Spy been injured?  
  
Spy stood up and paced around the room, getting more animated as he recounted the story. _“I spent quite a while talking to my Sniper about food, which gives me a number of ideas as to how to bring him around to my, heh, attractions, but that damnable Scout kept interrupting – all the time, like the yapping of a dog! I grew so annoyed with him, and I said things that I knew would enrage him beyond all reason, because then I could taunt him about his lack of self-control when he finally snapped and hit me. And of course he did, and he tried to hit me again and again with that stupid baseball bat, but then! Do you know what happened then? A most marvellous thing happened then!”_  
  
Medic slowly shook his head, speechless with wonder. Spy was never this jittery or excitable; he was the very definition of suave control. The man started to laugh, lifting both his fists in the air and shaking them in triumph.  
  
 _“The bushman came to my rescue! Yes! He punched Scout so hard, the little weasel fell over like a sack of potatoes! Oh, it was beautiful to see, so satisfying… And then he lifted me to my feet, and gave me his handkerchief for the blood – he was so delightfully warm, Doctor, and he smelled so nice, I could have melted right then and there in his arms…”_ Spy grabbed the bloody cloth from the desk and held it to his face with both hands, inhaling deeply. _“Ohhh, it still smells like him. Like earth and sweat,”_ he crooned, _“so very delicious.”_  
  
Medic couldn’t help but be a little baffled. _“He stopped Scout from beating you up, and based on this, you think he likes you?”_ he said incredulously. _“That sounds a little far-fetched.”_  
  
Spy wagged his finger at him. _“No, no, nothing so strong as that, but let us say that the potential is there, my friend. He knows of my tastes, after all, and as far as I know, he is not as uncomfortable about it as your Heavy. I can acquire some very delectable items for him, and then we shall see… perhaps an offer of a massage, yes? Some harmless touches. Some chance encounters alone. I am well practiced in the arts of love, and I will find a way into his heart.”_  
  
Medic shrugged. He had to admire Spy’s enthusiasm at least, but all the talk of romance just reminded him how far away his own happiness lay. He sighed. _“Well, I wish you all the luck in the world. You cannot do worse than me.”_  
  
Spy sat down beside him, and put one arm around his slumped shoulders. _“I am sorry, Doctor. I forget about your feelings sometimes.”_ He hugged him in consolation, which did make Medic feel a little better, then smiled wickedly. _“You know, if you like, I could sneak into your Russian bear’s room and steal a pair of underpants for you…”_  
  
Medic snorted in laughter, and patted Spy’s hand. _“You are a good friend for offering, but I do not think I have sunk quite that low just yet. I must endure as best I can.”_  
  
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. _“Come in,”_ Spy called out, and the door swung open to reveal the imposing form of Heavy.  
  
The big man stepped into the room, looking around in some distaste and openly glaring at Spy, who still had his arm around Medic’s shoulder. “I have come to find Doktor,” he said in his deep, rumbling accent, the sound of which did funny things to Medic’s spine. “I want to ask him question.”  
  
Nothing could ruin Spy’s good mood, though, not even Heavy’s obvious dislike. He stood up and slapped him smartly on the arm. “Well, you have found him, my enormous Russian friend. Would you like me to give you two some privacy?” he said, looking slyly at Medic’s face.  
  
Before he could say anything in response, Heavy pushed Spy away from him roughly. “Room of Spy smell bad,” he said. “I will not stay here. I wait outside.” With that, he turned and left, leaving Medic feeling just as despondent as ever.  
  
Spy pulled his friend to his feet. _“What are you waiting for? Go and find out what he wants!”_ He pointed him at the door and gave him a small shove. _“If you are lucky, you will be in his room and tearing his clothes off inside the hour.”_  
  
Medic froze for a moment, then shook himself back to reality. _“What?! Don’t be ridiculous. It’s probably something to do with his health, or -”_  
  
 _“Why must you always be such a pessimist?”_ Spy hissed as he herded him towards the door. _“I despair, sometimes – look. There is a condom in your right coat pocket in case you need it. Go and at least make an effort!”_ He sent Medic flying out of the door, and he landed in Heavy’s arms with a sharp ‘oof’.  
  
The door slammed shut. His boots scraped on the floor as he tried to stand up; only Heavy’s strong hands stopped him from falling over. There was a moment of awkward horror, then he was set back on his feet in one swift movement. The man was so strong… Medic smoothed down his coat, feeling desperately embarrassed.  
  
“I am very sorry, Herr Heavy,” he said, feeling his cheeks growing hot. “I am too clumsy sometimes.”  
  
Heavy looked at him, clearly not buying the excuse, and cast a swift glance of irritation at Spy’s door. “Is Doktor walking back towards room?” he asked.  
  
Medic’s heart jumped into his mouth. His hand slipped into his pocket; Spy had not lied, there was a condom in there, and a tube of… oh. His pulse started to roar in his ears. “Y-yes. Yes. I am going back to bed now.” He started to walk, and Heavy walked beside him.  
  
“Doktor should not spend time with Spy,” Heavy said suddenly. “Spy is not… nice man.”  
  
It was like having a bucket of cold water dumped over him; that sudden reminder that Heavy didn’t approve of the things that were currently spinning through his head. Medic wilted in disappointment. “He is not so bad vhen you get to know him,” he said in a tired voice. Spy had said that he should try, but really, what was the point? “He is just anozzer man, Herr Heavy. He has his good side.”  
  
“Hmph.” Heavy still looked annoyed, and more than a little angry. “I say not.”  
  
The words were like a blow to the gut. Medic thought he would never feel as beaten as when the Russian said such things. He sighed, wanting to be back in his room already, so he could at least hug himself under his blanket and forget that the man he wanted would never be his. “Vhat did you vant to ask me?” Maybe if Heavy got his answer, he would go away.  
  
“Ah… there is… party… tomorrow night,” Heavy began somewhat sheepishly. Medic looked at him in surprise – he was actually blushing. “No fighting on weekend, da? Demoman is bringing whiskey, and Engineer is making thing he calls 'disco ball’. I make sandviches for everyone.” He rubbed the back of his head, looking almost nervous. “Maybe Doktor would like to come?”  
  
Medic was ready to say no, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt like he wanted to get very, very drunk. It might be a bad idea, but it would take the edge off at least. He shrugged disconsolately. Why not? It wasn’t like he had anything else to do, or anyone else to see, on a Saturday night on a military base in the middle of nowhere. “Zat vould be fun,” he said. “I vould like to come. Vhat time, bitte?”  
  
Heavy grinned from ear to ear. “Great! We start at seven in rec room. I come find you before then.” He picked up Medic in a huge bear-hug, crushing him to his chest for a long, wonderful moment. “We have lots of fun! I promise! Doktor will not regret it!”  
  
He put him down, leaving Medic just a little bit dazed. They were outside his door, and he hadn’t even noticed that they had arrived. Heavy was all smiles now, and waved him goodnight before walking on.  
  
Medic waved half-heartedly at his retreating back. “Good… night?” he whispered, wondering exactly what had just happened.


	3. Chapter 3

At half past six on Saturday, Medic was in the infirmary. He sat at his desk, writing up a few notes and very much aware that his mind was wandering. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a night of drinking and merriment; ever since he had left college, he had been devoted to his job with no time for such frivolities. Before that, the clubs of Stuttgart had taken up much of his attention… He smiled, thinking back to those times, then sighed and stood up. He was done for the night.  
  
He closed up the infirmary and went to his room. The question remained: could he make himself presentable? It was a party, after all, or so Heavy had said. He certainly did not have what he considered to be the proper attire for a party – no nice suit, no tuxedo, nothing bar his uniform.

His hand touched the contents of his coat pocket. He briefly thought about taking them with him, then threw the condom and lube into the drawer of his desk. No point in tormenting himself… Medic left his lab coat and tie hanging over the back of his chair, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. He looked at his worn face in the mirror, noting the dark circles under his eyes. Had he always looked this tired, he wondered? “Who would have a man like you?” he murmured to himself.  
  
A loud knock at the door nearly made him jump out of his skin. Medic breathed deeply, steeling himself, then opened it quickly.  
  
It was Heavy, looking much like he usually did apart from the absence of his huge flak jacket. His plain T-shirt stretched over his chest, outlining his thick muscles. Medic forced himself, with some difficulty, to look only at his face. “Guten abend, Herr Heavy. You are early, I see.”  
  
“Party has already started, Doktor! You are ready now? You are looking very nice!”  
  
“I – ah… yes, I am ready. Zank you.” Medic stepped out and pulled his door closed. He could already feel his hands shaking. They walked to the rec room, Heavy chattering about what he had put in the sandwiches and Medic becoming increasingly nervous.  
  
The strains of jazz music were coming from the rec room. Medic pushed the door open, and his jaw simply dropped at the sight of Pyro and Engineer swing dancing in the middle of the floor, under a weird sparkling ball that cast a thousand motes of light on every surface. The whole space was darkened, and the card table was pushed over to one side and covered in plates and bottles. One of the dispensers had apparently been rigged as a jukebox, and Soldier and Scout were arguing over the music selection. Demo was already sitting comfortably on one of the couches, drinking from one of his horrible brown bottles.  
  
Spy and Sniper were conspicuously absent.  
  
Medic resisted the urge to turn around and run back to his room. He couldn’t quite make himself move forward either, however. Heavy solved the conundrum by placing one enormous hand on his back and pushing him inside. “See, Doktor, is fun! Have drink and dance!”  
  
Oh, no. No dancing. Medic could dance very well, but dancing meant touching, and Heavy’s touch was already too much for him. It made him think of things that Heavy would certainly not approve of.  
  
He settled for a drink. Demo had come up with a few bottles of stuff that wouldn’t poison someone other than him, and Engineer had provided a crate of American beer. One or two would loosen him up at least.  
Medic took a bottle of beer, and sat on the armchair opposite Demo. “So,” he said, “Zis seems nice…”  
  
“Da! We are needing party to relax after long week!” said Heavy, as he sat down beside Demo with a sandwich. “In Russia, is well known that party every now and then is good for soul. Maybe, how you say, blow off steam?” He grinned, and began to munch his food.  
  
“Aye, ye got that right, mate,” Demo said, chugging back some more of his whiskey. “Shame we could nae hire a few hoors as well, then the evenin’d be just about perfect.”  
  
Heavy slapped him on the back, making him cough on the booze. “Ah, you make joke, my friend! Nearest town is hours away! By the time women get here, party will be over!”  
  
Medic couldn’t help smiling. Heavy looked so happy…  
  
He jumped as Engineer placed one hand on his shoulder. “Heya Doc, glad you could make it. Think you might be tempted to get up an’ dance?” Medic glanced at the jukebox dispenser. Pyro had chased Soldier and Scout away, and was lining up another record.  
  
“Ah – nein, danke. I do not dance.”  
  
Engineer grinned at him. “Well now, as it happens, I can teach you how to swing -”  
  
Medic shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I know how, but I do not vish to dance. I… have two left feet, Herr Engineer. Bitte, I do not vant to embarrass myself.”  
  
Engineer patted his shoulder. “Alright, Doc, we’ll see how you feel about it later.” He turned and shouted at Scout. “Hey, Scout, you wanna learn how to do the Charleston?”  
  
They were treated to the sight of Engineer pulling Scout unwillingly to his feet. “Dammit, lemme alone, Engie, I don’t wanna do no faggot dancing!”  
  
“Boy, are you dumb as well as mouthy? You learn how to swing, and every girl from here to Chicago is gonna want your ass.”  
  
That got his attention. Scout stared at him, not quite believing it. “What, really?”  
  
Engineer tapped his chest proudly. “Been married twice as a result. Take it from me, the ladies love a man who knows how to move his body.”  
  
Scout let himself be guided out into the middle of the floor, and Engineer began to talk him through the dance. “See, you put your hands here, an’ her hands go here, an’ the first thing you do is put your foot out like so – an’ a-one, an’ a-two-”  
  
He wasn’t all that bad, Medic thought privately. Scout picked it up quickly at least. Perhaps it was because he was so young. Medic recalled learning the same dance in Stuttgart, and his cheeks suddenly felt hot. He covered up the blush by drinking deeply from the bottle of beer, then coughing at the harsh taste.  
  
Demo chuckled at him. “If that’s chokin’ ye, boyo, ye’ll probably want to stay offa mah scrumpy fer the night.”  
  
Medic nodded, still coughing and unable to speak. He began to feel ridiculous. Here he was, improperly dressed, and making a fool of himself with this horrible American beer… If it wasn’t for Heavy, he would have made some excuse already and left.  
  
But the music was good. He found himself tapping his foot unconsciously. He could stay and talk, Medic thought desperately. He would have one or two drinks, enjoy Heavy’s company, and then leave before he started to feel even more self-conscious.  
  
“Vhere is Spy und Sniper tonight?” he asked, by way of starting a conversation.  
  
Demo gestured with his whiskey bottle. “The Aussie weren’t interested. Said he had a book he wanted to read, or some such. Spy -”  
  
“Spy was not invited,” Heavy snapped. “Is better that he is not here.”  
  
“Why are ye so het up about him, mate?” Demo asked, poking him in the shoulder. “It cannae be only because he plays fer the other team, as it were -”  
  
“Shut up. Is no business of yours,” Heavy said angrily, and finished the last of his sandwich.  
  
Medic looked down, trying to hide the intense heartache that he could only imagine was written large in his eyes. He stared at the beer for a few moments, then knocked it back in one go and reached for another.  
  
By his third beer, he was engaged in a heated discussion with Soldier about whether Germany would have been able to invade America during the war. By his fifth, he had one arm draped around Demo, and they were singing drinking songs at the top of their lungs. At some point, he realized that he had not eaten any dinner at all, but the fact seemed rather unimportant. By his seventh, he had dragged Heavy out under the disco ball and was trying to teach him how to waltz.  
  
Despite his earlier reluctance, he couldn’t stop himself from touching Heavy at every opportunity. He grabbed his arm to get his attention, leaned into him as they moved across the floor. The big man seemed to take it as playful drunkenness, but Medic had to at least admit to himself that it wasn’t, and that it was somewhat dangerous. He couldn’t help wanting it, wanting any touch at all; anything to get his hands on that muscled body, no matter how ridiculous the excuse…  
  
The night wound down with all of them singing and Engineer playing guitar. Medic couldn’t think straight through the fuzzy, alcoholic haze, and he kept forgetting to speak English instead of German, but he was having too much fun to care. He was slumped on the couch, leaning against Heavy for support and feeling wonderfully happy for once.  
  
Engineer yawned first. “I think I’ll be turnin’ in now, y'all. Been a good night – we should do this again sometime.”  
  
“Da, is great night,” Heavy agreed. He shifted a little, and Medic fell sideways into his lap.  
  
He made a pretence of trying to push himself up again, but he found he rather enjoyed the heat of one enormous thigh under his cheek, and the feel of the trousers under his hands. “Ah… es tut mir leid, Herr Heavy… bitte… I haf much to drink.”  
  
Heavy lifted him up by his shoulders, and Medic latched onto his arms for support. He felt groggy and slightly silly. Heavy shook his head at him, and helped him stand up rather unsteadily. “I go to bed too. I will take Doktor back to room as well on the way. Say good night, Doktor!”  
  
“Ja, good night everyone… vielen danke for ze party,” he said, as he staggered towards the door. It seemed to wobble back and forth across his vision, and he managed to grasp the doorknob on the third attempt. Heavy caught him again as he opened the door and stumbled backwards instead of walking through it.  
  
Going back to his room… yes, going back to his room, and Heavy would come in and perhaps stay a little while, and… all kinds of pleasurable things floated through his dizzy, drunk mind. He smiled like an idiot, and tripped over his own feet again. Heavy had one broad arm around his waist, keeping him upright as he staggered onwards. Was there something wrong about that? Heavy didn’t like men, not in the way he did.  
  
Oh, to hell with it, it didn’t matter. It felt great. Medic felt great.  
  
He saw Spy approaching, and managed to wave at him. _“Hello, my friend! I am very, very drunk,”_ he declared happily. Heavy immediately glowered at the Frenchman, who in turned simply stared at Medic with a curious smile. They stopped for a moment as Spy blocked their way.  
  
“What has the Doctor been drinking?” he asked with a hint of amusement.  
  
“Is no concern of yours.” Heavy snapped. “I am taking Doktor to his room. He needs to sleep.”  
  
Medic threw his arms around Heavy’s neck, and pulled his chin around to face him. His skin was warm, like a hot water bottle, and the big man’s cheeks were flushed. Maybe he had had some beer too? _“Why are you so mean to Spy?”_ he asked plaintively. _“There is nothing wrong with liking men, my big Russian bear… You are always so nice to me, but I really like you. That is not wrong, is it?”_  
  
Heavy didn’t understand. Through the haze, Medic realized that he really should speak English. He became aware that Spy was chuckling. “Vhat isss being zo funny?” Medic slurred. “I am jussss asking a question, Sssspy…”  
  
“Perhaps I should take the Doctor to his room?” Spy offered. “Before he, ah, embarrasses himself further.”  
  
“No! I will take Doctor. I am not needing help from you,” Heavy growled threateningly, and his grip around Medic’s waist got tighter. Something in his voice seemed wrong, even dangerous, but Medic was barely conscious of it. His head was swimming delightfully now, and he had no sense of balance at all. He could feel himself falling again but it didn’t seem to matter all that much. Heavy would keep him standing.  
  
A second strong arm circled his waist. His whole body was in contact with the other man, and it felt wonderful – all that hard muscle, all that heat, the feel of soft skin under his fingers. So nice, and his mouth was so close and looked so inviting…  
  
 _“Not that I really want to stop you, Doctor, but you’re going to regret this in the morning,”_ Spy said quickly. Medic stared at him groggily before turning back to Heavy.  
  
“Isss okay, yes? Jusss vun kisss…” It all made sense in his head. Just one kiss. Heavy didn’t approve of this kind of thing, but surely one little kiss would be alright – or maybe a big one, because some part of him knew he wouldn’t get this chance again. The man looked confused, then astonished, and as he started to respond, Medic’s self-control finally broke down.  
  
He closed his eyes and dragged Heavy’s head down to his. Common sense might have told him to be gentle, and perhaps he would be forgiven in the morning, but it was swiftly overruled by alcohol and sexual frustration. He forced Heavy’s mouth wide open, went for his tongue with a vengeance, and kissed him like there was no tomorrow.  
  
Hot. Wet. Quite sloppy, but then again, he was very drunk. There was no technique, no reason – just the overwhelming need for as much sensation as possible. The grip on his waist became a warm, enveloping hug; strong arms wrapped around him and held him close. Butterflies danced in his stomach, and his whole body felt like it was floating; the feeling went on forever and ever, in a world that contained nothing but the heat of his touch and the taste of his lips. Medic had to breathe sometime, though, and eventually he fell back to earth. They separated with a loud smacking sound.  
  
He nuzzled Heavy’s neck, feeling his feet slipping out from under him. “Mmm… tassssty…” he murmured, and finally blacked out with a smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning light was not kind.  
  
He opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it. Medic groaned, rolled over and covered his face with one arm. The throbbing receded after a while, and he managed to lift his head and take stock of where he was.  
  
His own room. It looked very normal. His jacket and tie were still lying over the back of the chair. He was fully clothed, but someone had seen fit to take off his boots and throw the blanket over him.

“Gott in himmel…” he groaned, and tried to stand up. The hangover was intense. What did they put in that horrible American beer that could do this to a man? He felt quite sick, as if he had eaten something bad, and the light was making his splitting headache even more unbearable. He would have to go to the infirmary to get some aspirin. Next time Heavy invited him to a… party…  
  
Oh, no. Oh no, no, no.  
  
The memory of the previous night filtered through his horrified mind. He remembered it all, even though it was somewhat unreal due to the haze of beer. God, it had felt wonderful; every touch seemed to glow in his mind, making his face grow hot and his stomach clench. But… Heavy would remember too.  
  
Medic stumbled out of his room and ran for the bathrooms. He got to the toilet just in time to vomit everything out of his stomach. He stayed there, collapsed on the floor with both arms around the toilet bowl, wheezing for breath. It would be so easy to curl up and cry, because of the pain in both his head and his heart, but he was too proud to act like a child in the face of such a colossal mistake. He coughed harshly instead.  
  
 _“So, you are finally awake.”_  
  
Medic looked up at Spy, who was standing by the washbasin clad in nothing but a towel. He tried to pull himself up and failed, until Spy sighed and offered him a hand up.  
  
 _“Why didn’t you stop me?”_ he asked weakly. _“What kind of friend are you?”_  
  
Spy glared at him. _“The kind who likes to keep breathing, Doctor. I think if I had tried anything at all, your Heavy would have killed me. He is too protective of you.”_  
  
Medic staggered to the washbasins, splashing his face and trying not to heave again. He felt desperately betrayed, by Spy of all people - the one teammate he thought he could count on to prevent him from doing something untoward. He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. _“You said you didn’t want to stop me.”_  
  
 _“No, I didn’t.”_ Spy snapped. _“I have told you often enough that you should just talk to the man. He was going to find out sooner or later, after all.”_ He handed Medic a towel. _“I thought that him finding out by way of you trying to suck his face off was the best possible outcome.”_  
  
Medic gripped the basin for balance, feeling increasingly unsteady as his stomach flopped over painfully. The heat that he still felt from the memory of the night before clashed with fear and embarrassment; he wanted to run to Heavy and fold himself into his arms, and he wanted hide away and avoid his gaze forever. Now, everything was being swiftly eclipsed by panic and dread.  
  
 _“He will never speak to me again, Spy!”_ he shouted, his voice becoming shrill. _“He will never look at me again as a friend because you didn’t stop me!”_ Even as the words left his mouth, he knew it was unfair and hurtful, but he couldn’t stop himself. All Medic could think of was that Heavy knew of his desires, and the result of that knowledge could only be that Medic would never be allowed to touch him or speak to him in a friendly way ever again.  
  
Spy punched him roughly in the shoulder, knocking him down. Medic sprawled on the floor; he hadn’t felt it much, but he had no sense of balance left. His back hit the ground, making him hiss in pain. Spy pointed at him accusingly.  
  
 _“I was not the one who got drunk last night, Doctor,”_ he spat. _“I was not the one to lose control. I am not your keeper, and if you had any courage that didn’t come from a bottle, you would be in his room and in his bed right now!”_  
  
There was a quiet cough behind him, and Medic looked up into the face of his Heavy Weapons Specialist.  
  
He froze in terror, able to do nothing but stare at the Russian’s face. Heavy was not looking back at him, not yet. He was staring at Spy with a cold, unspoken threat in his eyes.  
  
Medic didn’t want to meet him like this. He was on the ground, still disheveled from the previous night, stinking of sweat and stale beer and vomit. He looked down, imagining that he was a wretched sight; it was more than he could bear to face Heavy’s pity as well as disgust. His heart was already starting to crack. It would only take one glance, one word, for it to shatter into a million pieces.  
  
Spy nodded at Heavy, and picked up the towel that had fallen to the floor when Medic went down. “If you will excuse me, I must take a shower,” he said stiffly, then walked away towards the locker room. Medic wanted to shout at him to stay, please, I can’t face him like this, but all that passed his lips was a faint whimper.  
  
They were alone. Medic pushed himself up weakly, forcing his sore body to stand. If he was going to die inside, it would be on his feet and not curled into a ball on the floor. But his stomach still clenched in pain, his head still pounded with a swiftly worsening headache, and he had no strength left. He grabbed the edge of the basin, praying that he could rise without embarrassing himself further.  
  
Strong fingers wrapped around his hand, pulling him upright without effort. Like the embrace in his memory, he wanted to sink into Heavy’s arms and lose himself in the heat and feel of the other man’s body - but this was day, they were both sober, and he had no excuse bar his own wanton desires. Still, Medic’s body responded treacherously to the touch, even through the effects of the hangover and his own mental torture. Warmth spread through his hand and traveled along his arm, soothing and exciting.  
  
“Is Doktor feeling alright?”  
  
His tone was neutral, and Medic finally lifted his face and looked him in the eye. Heavy was concerned, yes, but there was a tightness in his expression that spoke of something more. It… wasn’t distaste, not yet, he could already feel himself falling into despair.  
  
“I am feeling very sick,” Medic mumbled. “I - I am sorry, Herr Heavy, I do not vish anyone to see me like zis.” He clung to the edge of the basin for support, staring down into the water and wishing he were anywhere else, even the pits of Hell.  
  
Heavy filled a glass of water methodically, and offered it to him. Medic accepted it with a shaking hand, hoping that the cold liquid could help his stomach. He couldn’t think of anything else to say that would not make the situation worse.  
  
Heavy finally spoke. “Does Doktor remember anything about last night?” he asked, his voice careful and noncommittal.  
  
Medic dropped the glass, and it shattered in the basin. He stared at the shallow cut on his palm and the blood oozing from it, not really aware of the pain. Some part of him was screaming that he knows, he knows, he knows and he hates me for it…  
  
Heavy’s hand covered his fingers, and pulled Medic around to face him. He was so close that Medic hurt, physically, with the need to feel his body against him. He stood his ground, shaking with desire and pain and very real fear.  
  
“Doktor?” Heavy said, and this time his voice was much more gentle.  
  
“I - I am sorry, Herr Heavy,” Medic blurted out. “I don’t remember as much as I should, but I - I zink I acted in a matter zat vas not appropriate towards you.” He started to babble uncontrollably. “I am so sorry! It - it vill never happen again, I promise you! I should never have drunk so much alcohol, it vas an unforgivable oversight on my part…” He scrambled for any excuse that could cover up his true intent, and suddenly thought of the comments of the previous night.  
  
“Zis is a very remote base, und ve have not had any companionship in a very long time,” he said, not really believing what he was saying, but hoping the other man would. “Perhaps it is not so surprising…”  
  
Heavy looked at him, searching for something in his face, and the moment stretched out into a long, uncomfortable, tension-filled silence. The tightness was still there, somewhere. Medic was ready to collapse when Heavy finally nodded, slowly, and squeezed his hand.  
  
“Is… fine, Doktor. I understand.” He opened Medic’s trembling fingers, and examined the cut. “Doktor will need to go to infirmary, da? I help you with hand.”  
  
Medic sagged with relief, having avoided the fate that would have destroyed him for now. Maybe Heavy didn’t really believe him, but the pretense was there, and he hadn’t called him on it. All at once, Medic felt totally drained; he wanted to feel nothing, just for a little while, so that he could work up to keeping his feelings hidden once again. “I - I’m fine, Herr Heavy. I do not vant to be any more of a burden to you…”  
  
“No, no, is fine,” he said, and this time there was something like a smile on his face. “You are no burden to me, Doktor. Come.”  
  
Heavy took him by the arm and guided him out of the bathrooms. Medic walked a little unsteadily, but he was quick to find his feet and follow without aid. The heat from Heavy’s hand lingered.


	5. Chapter 5

The week wore on. Spy had largely disappeared - he did not eat dinner with the rest of the team, and there was little sign of him during battle. Medic felt the loss of his companionship, and he found himself wishing Spy was around if only so he could talk freely about Heavy.  
  
The man was acting… strange. He had accepted the excuse, but there was something off about his behaviour, some anger deep in his eyes that just wouldn’t go away. He was still kind to Medic, still shielded him in the fighting and talked with him in the evening. He was nothing but gentle and friendly, in fact. But Medic couldn’t help feeling it, and it made him afraid. The only thing that shielded him from that anger was the fact that Heavy didn’t know of his preferences.

He didn’t want to be afraid of Heavy. His mind still wandered, late at night before he fell asleep, into thoughts of delicious, happy things involving the two of them - that was what he wanted, so very, very much, not this gut-clenching dread. He knew, though, what happened to homosexuals who hung around with violent homophobes; the outcome was never pretty, and he was not so naive as to think that his friendship with the man would shield him entirely, should he ever find out the truth. During battle, Medic grew increasingly paranoid around Heavy, moving away more than usual to respond to other cries for help, always trying to make sure that there was someone else close by.  
  
Things came to a head on Thursday, when Spy finally resurfaced.  
  
Medic was walking back to the infirmary rather late, wanting to get some painkillers for a slight headache. Most of the rest of the team had gathered in the rec room for a quiet night of cards, while Engineer and Scout had vanished into the armory while talking about jury-rigging a film projector and smuggling in some movies. He wasn’t expecting to see anyone around; the corridors were silent, empty, until he heard a murmur of voices up ahead.  
  
“Aaagh!” A sharp, meaty thump, followed by an indistinct growl of a voice; someone was being threatened, someone scuffled, someone groaned. Medic stopped, suddenly fearful.  
  
“Put… put me down, you crazy Russian!”  
  
No… that was Spy’s voice! Medic rushed on, despite being scared. Heavy was doing something - he couldn’t let him hurt Spy!  
  
There was another thump as he rounded the corner, and saw Spy being pinned against the wall by the Heavy Weapons Specialist, blood streaming out of his nose. He was limp, mouth open in a gasp of protest, one hand gripping the wrist of the other man as he was slowly choked.  
  
Heavy was a picture of cold, terrifying rage, one enormous fist drawn backwards to punch Spy again. He was in the middle of saying something, his voice as soft and dangerous as a tiger’s purr.  
  
“…I only hit you now - next time, I rip off arm and beat you to death with wet end -”  
  
“NO!” Medic shouted, running forward to pull Heavy’s arm away. “Stop! Let him go, Herr Heavy! Let him go NOW!”  
  
The man dropped Spy in astonishment. The Frenchman slumped against the wall, coughing painfully. Medic shoved Heavy as hard as he could, which was really like trying to move a truck with his bare hands for all the good it did. “Vhat are you doing?! He has done nozzing to you! He does not deserve zis!”  
  
Heavy looked shocked and stepped backwards, and his expression was full of confused concern. “But… Doktor -”  
  
Suddenly, Medic felt a surge of anger. He didn’t want any of this. He was tired, so fucking tired, of this damnable hatred that kept him from his one desire and hurt his closest friend. Heavy was never going to give Medic what he really needed - and god, it hurt worse than any gunshot, but if he had to choose between them, he had to pick the one who wasn’t going to break his heart.  
  
Medic snarled, “You leave Spy alone!” He threw a punch, connecting with Heavy’s jaw and making his hand blaze with pain. He couldn’t have felt it; his head had barely moved, after all, but Heavy looked like he had been knocked out with Scout’s baseball bat. “I do not know vhat you zink you are doing, but you vill not hurt him vhile I am here!”  
  
Heavy touched his face where Medic had hit him. His mouth settled into a hard line, and he looked at Medic with pained, defeated resignation. “Fine,” he said. “…Goodnight.”  
  
He walked away without another word, leaving Medic to turn back to Spy.  
  
 _“I am so sorry, my friend,”_ he said, helping Spy up and checking on his injuries. He had two broken ribs at least. _“I’m so, so sorry.”_  
  
 _“You… are in love with a crazy man,”_ Spy said with difficulty. They began to walk slowly towards the infirmary, neither saying anything for several minutes. Medic pushed the door open with his foot, and got Spy to a chair before turning on the lights. In the harsh fluorescent glare, he could see the bruise beginning to develop around his eye, and the bloody smear from his split lip.  
  
Medic ignored the ache in his hand, and took out the Medigun to kickstart the healing process. Spy pulled off his balaclava, showing another series of bruises around his throat. The streams from the gun would dampen the pain easily enough, but he would need a good night’s sleep to fully recover.  
  
He put down the gun when the bruises were all but faded, and pulled up another chair. _“Spy, please -”_  
  
 _“Stop,”_ Spy said, raising one hand to interrupt him. _“I… need to apologise, Doctor. I should not have said those things on the morning after the party.”_ He shook his head wearily. _“I would not be here if I had not… but there is nothing to be done about that now.”_  
  
 _“What happened, that he would attack you?”_  
  
 _“He said if I ever touched you again, he would kill me,”_ Spy said simply. _“He did not like the way I knocked you down, apparently.”_  
  
Medic stared at his red knuckles, thinking about the punch he had thrown at the man he wanted. _“Why did you hit me?”_  
  
Spy shifted uncomfortably, then sighed. _“You know… spies do not make friends easily, yes? It is the nature of the job. Those that we do fall in with, who choose to accept us despite the… backstabbing and all that – they mean more, perhaps, than they should.”_  
  
Medic was surprised, and a little touched, at this admission. Spy still looked desperately uncomfortable, as if he were revealing something deeply personal, but still plunged onwards. _“When you accused me of not being a good friend to you… It made me very angry.”_  
  
 _“I… I am sorry, Spy. I should not have said that. You did not deserve it.”_ Medic put his face in his hands. _“This is my fault. I am sorry that you got hurt because of me.”_  
  
A light touch on the shoulder; Spy patted him reassuringly. _“You did save me, my friend. I will mend. And you punched your big Russian bear for me - that could not have been easy.”_  
  
 _“Don’t call him that,”_ Medic whispered, staring at the floor unhappily. It was coming home to him just what he had done, and the reality of it made him want to cry. He had made the right choice, but that didn’t mean it didn’t tear him to pieces inside. God knows what Heavy thought of him now, but he had most certainly lost any shred of his goodwill.  
  
Spy reached out and hugged him, and Medic leaned into his chest and shook with bottled-up sorrow. He would not cry; he was made of sterner stuff than that.  
  
 _“Shh, Doctor, it will be alright,”_ Spy said soothingly, rubbing his back. _“I know it seems hopeless now, but I think you still have a chance.”_  
  
Medic buried his face in the other man’s shoulder. _“You believe so?”_ he said indistinctly.  
  
 _“Yes, I do.”_ Spy lifted him up, and looked at him earnestly. _“You know I am always telling you not to be such a pessimist. Now answer me this: when you kissed him, did he push you away?”_  
  
Medic replayed the memory in his mind, clouded as it was with the effects of the beer. He recalled the lovely feelings coursing through his body, and the sensation of Heavy holding him. Remembering was both painful and wonderful. _“No… no, he did not.”_  
  
 _“I expect anyone would be shocked if one of their teammates tried to strangle them with his mouth, but in my experience, there are only so many reactions to such an event.”_ Spy began to count off on his fingers. _“There is no such thing as a neutral response to this, the unexpected kiss. They either reciprocate, or force you away. There is no in-between, as it were – such passion is always met with a similar passion, whether positive or negative.”_  
  
Medic didn’t quite understand. _“You were there. What did you see?”_  
  
Spy smiled at him. _“I think what I saw speaks for itself. He did not stop you, Doctor. That at least should tell you that he is not so violently opposed to relationships between men, for all that he dislikes me.”_  
  
He meant well, of course, but Medic knew better. Shock could do strange things to a man, after all. But… perhaps…  
  
 _“Spy, what happened after I passed out?”_  
  
He looked at him curiously. _“After the party, you mean?”_ Spy shrugged. _“Heavy dumped you on me, and left very quickly. He was red in the face – very embarrassed, I thought.”_  
  
Ah. Medic’s heart sank. He had hoped for one brief moment that Heavy had been the one to bring him to his room. But even if he had… what did it matter? Why should such an event change anything about the last few days, or about how the man felt? He felt his stomach clench as he realised that all he had, all he would ever have, was the memory of that night. One kiss; hot, passionate, and powerful, and he would never have anything more of his love.  
  
Medic knew, with a certainty that opened a yawning pit of despair in his mind, that it was love. He hadn’t really been sure before, but the knowledge of his loss brought it into sharp focus. He loved his Heavy Weapons Specialist, loved him so deeply that it ached in his gut and in his groin.  
  
He was brought back to the present by the pain in his knuckles. He lifted the Medigun again, and used it to numb the ache, not fully trusting himself to speak.  
  
 _“Doctor?”_ Spy asked. The Frenchman touched him again on the shoulder, clearly concerned.  
  
Medic scrubbed his hands through his hair, willing the pain to ease a little. _“I think you are just trying to cheer me up,”_ he muttered. _“I – no. Let it go, Spy. Just let it go.”_  
  
Spy squeezed his shoulder, an expression of sympathy on his face. _“Well… if it is any consolation, I have been spending the last few days being unlucky in love as well,”_ he said, slumping into his chair and looking despondent. _“I have been trying to get close to Sniper, but the man is maddeningly oblivious.”_  
  
 _“Oh?”_ Medic was glad of the change in subject.  
  
Spy threw up his hands in defeat. _“I cook for him, and he thanks me and bids me goodnight. Every simple touch, he takes as something harmless no matter what I do. And the offer of the massage…”_ Spy noticeably blushed. _“He refused. Do you know he does yoga every evening, because he says being hunched over a rifle all day is not good for the body? The man is as flexible as an acrobat.”_  
  
 _“So your next plan of attack is…?”_  
  
Spy grinned wolfishly. _“I am making arrangements for a very special dinner tomorrow night. Crepes, with strawberries and cream - and do not ask what I had to do to get those onto the base. If all goes well, I should have an interesting weekend. I still have much to do, so I should really be going at some point.”_  
  
Medic smiled half-heartedly. It would have to be enough that he had Spy again to ease the loneliness, and he would have to endure working with Heavy as best he could. They both stood, and Medic put one hand on his arm before Spy turned to leave. _“Please be careful of Heavy,”_ he said. _“I don’t want to have to stitch either of you back together.”_  
  
Spy patted his hand reassuringly. _“I will be careful. I am good at not being seen, yes? Your Heavy will not notice me sneaking around.”_


	6. Chapter 6

INTERLUDE THE FIRST: SPY AND SNIPER  
  
The evening was going reasonably well, Spy thought. Sniper had eaten the crepes with every sign of enjoyment. They were finishing the strawberries and cream now, and the last of a very good bottle of red wine. It was getting late, but this time, Sniper had no reason to excuse himself and leave. They were eating in his room in the base.  
  
The camper was too small, and he had seemed quite happy with setting up a folding table and having only Spy for company. Spy, of course, was very pleased to have him alone and essentially captive. The room was very neat, and the bed was very soft - he had tested it briefly when Sniper wasn’t looking - and he had lube and condoms secreted about his person. These were the best circumstances he could hope for, if he was planning to get laid tonight. 

Still… it was annoying. Sniper didn’t seem to respond to anything Spy did. He was either ignorant of body language or was choosing to ignore the looks, the small gestures, the smiles. He chatted amiably enough, but any attempt to steer the conversation toward more romantic ends had failed, so far. Spy began to wonder if he should take some different tactic…  
  
Sniper took the last strawberry. Spy watched, mouth suddenly dry, as he licked the cream off and sucked it before finally eating it slowly. Did he realize, he wondered, how the action made him look so wonderfully desirable? Spy was glad for the table between them, for now. His usual aura of suave, seductive control could be somewhat spoiled by the presence of a bulge in his pants.  
  
He covered by pouring some more wine for the other man.  
  
“Cheers,” Sniper said with a smile, and he delicately tasted it as Spy poured his own glass. He closed his eyes in pleasure as he swallowed, experiencing the flavors as they mingled together; Spy couldn’t help staring in fascination, tracing the line of his jaw with his eyes.  
  
“Ah, that’s a beaut,” Sniper said, lifting the glass to look at the blood red liquid. “Reminds me of a wine I had back home – Penfolds Grange, 1961, I think. Bloody fantastic vintage.”  
  
“I did not realize you were so familiar with wines.”  
  
“Eh, not really. I know what I like, ya know? Can’t stand the cheap stuff, and this tastes good enough to be expensive.”  
  
Spy smiled behind his glass. “I should see if I can find any other bottles of a similar kind, perhaps. As a favor to you, yes?” No matter what it will do to my bank account, he thought privately. “As it happens, I may be able to procure some oysters - maybe you would like to try them?” Oh please, please try them, I want to see what you’d look like with a powerful aphrodisiac running through your veins -  
  
Sniper shook his head. “Nah, I don’t want to put you out, mate.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs, sipping the wine and making quiet noises of appreciation. “’S very nice of ya to do this, though – yer a real friend, Spy.”  
  
He gritted his teeth; foiled again. He felt the pressure in his groin ease somewhat disappointingly. Spy guessed that Sniper would start hinting that he leave reasonably soon. He could try to draw out the evening as long as possible, but nothing could hide the fact that he was running out of time. He cast an eye about the room, looking for something to talk about.  
  
His gaze fell on Sniper’s nondescript book, the one that had occupied his attention this last week. It had a plain brown cover, with no hint of the subject, and it was sitting on the locker beside his bed with a feather for a bookmark. “May I ask what you are reading?”  
  
Sniper gestured at it. “Take a look there if you want. Just don’t lose my place.”  
  
Spy stood, and walked over to pick it up. It was a tiny thing, barely as big as his hand, and the leather cover was worn and soft. He flicked through it, and was more than a little surprised to find that it wasn’t in English.  
  
“Italian poetry?” he said incredulously. “You speak Italian?”  
  
Sniper smiled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “'Trovommi amor del tutto disarmato, et aperta la via per gli occhi al core,‘” he quoted. “I’d hardly be reading it otherwise, Spook. I did a fair number of jobs for the mob in Rome a few years back, and I kinda picked it up.”  
  
Good god… Spy had thought the bushman very attractive before, but listening to him speak Italian, with that accent, was almost too much! The words had an odd inflection that made his heart skip a beat, coy and sexy in a way he couldn’t define that entered his ears and went straight for his crotch. His Italian was a little rusty, but he could pick out the words easily enough – one of the sonnets, perhaps? _Love found me all disarmed, and opened the way to reach my heart…_  
  
“Maybe,” Spy said, and cleared his throat as he realized his voice was a little too hoarse, “Maybe you could read one or two to me? I do not know Italian, and you… speak it so well.” A little lie, for the sake of his libido.  
  
Sniper laughed. “Nah, I don’t think so, mate. Wouldn’t be right, reading love poems to ya.” He paused, as if he had said something wrong. Spy felt a moment of gleeful victory – he was getting through, somewhere, even if Sniper wasn’t entirely into it yet.  
  
“Oh, really? And why would that be wrong, Monsieur?” he asked with brief, smouldering smile.  
  
Sniper looked at him with a calculating expression. “Well…,” he said slowly, “I’m pretty sure Medic would be a bit pissed off if he heard about it, and I kinda like getting healed in battle.”  
  
Spy felt his train of thought being derailed. He stared at Sniper in confusion. “What could Medic possibly have to do with you reading poetry to me?” he asked, wondering if the wine had knocked the sense out of him.  
  
Sniper refilled his glass, possibly to avoid looking at him. “I know the two of ya are in something, alright? Whatever it is, I’m not getting involved.”  
  
Realization dawned on Spy. The sheer, mind-boggling absurdity of it nearly took his breath away. “Do you mean to say,” he said with increasing anger, all thought of subtlety forgotten, “you have had dinner with me every night this week, and all this time you thought that Medic and I were sleeping together?!”  
  
“Ah, don’t play dumb, Spy – I know yer together, and I ain’t interested in a man who sleeps around.”  
  
Hah! He liked men! Spy could have worked something around that, but any response he had was cut short by the thought that he never had a chance to begin with. “You have been stringing me along, bushman!” He pointed at Sniper accusingly. “You have eaten my food and drunk my wine, and you never had any intention -”  
  
“No, I bloody well didn’t,” Sniper snapped. “But I wasn’t gonna turn down free food and booze, and I liked watching ya trying to put the moves on me.”  
  
Spy stared at him, his jaw nearly on the floor. “You noticed?” he said weakly.  
  
“Of course I bloody well noticed! I’d have to be blind and stupid to miss yer flirting.” Sniper stood up, leaving his glass on the table, and snatched the book out of Spy’s hand. “I just played around and kept ya away, 'cos, like I said, I’m not getting involved in whatever the hell you two have going!”  
  
Spy swore under his breath. “Sniper, there is NOTHING between me and Medic! We are only friends, and our preferences are completely different!”  
  
“Yeah, well, I don’t believe that for a second. No offence, Spook.”  
  
Spy held out his hands pleadingly, at a loss as to how to make the man understand. “It is the truth! I will swear that on whatever god you prefer!”  
  
“Oh come on, do you seriously expect me to believe you two aren’t talking dirty when ya think we can’t understand ya?” Sniper said spitefully. “I know a few words, and I’m pretty sure ya weren’t discussing the weather -”  
  
“I WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU!” Spy shouted. “And Medic was talking about – someone else.” He laughed, harshly. “That is irony. You think we are involved, and you are not interested a result, but he desires another and would not look twice at me even if I were inclined to try.” He slumped back into his chair, feeling completely defeated. All the money and time wasted, and no Sniper to show for it. His anger drained away, replaced by resignation; he grabbed his glass, and raised a toast. “Well, here is to a very expensive mistake. Long may it give you pleasure, Monsieur,” he said bitterly.  
  
Sniper gave him a curious look. “Who’s Medic into, then?”  
  
Spy glared at him as he gulped the wine. “Oh no, I am not naming names. You can believe whatever you wish about me, but I will not betray the secrets of a friend.”  
  
“Really. Well, as it happens, I know someone who’d be pretty happy to know that the Doc’s available.” Sniper sat down again, watching him carefully. “I’d bet if you were really 'just friends’, you’d have no problem telling them that.”  
  
Spy looked at him; he was betraying nothing. Another of the team was chasing the Doctor? It seemed unlikely, but this had been a day for surprises. Medic did not need that interest, however; he was already heart-broken, and more drama would not be good for him.  
  
He knew he couldn’t do it. Nothing would induce him to throw Medic in harm’s way for the sake of his sex drive, and lying to Sniper about whether he had done it would probably not end well. Spy wanted to groan at the unfairness of it all.  
  
He settled for a half-truth. “I will not do that.” As Sniper opened his mouth to taunt him, Spy held up one finger threateningly. “Not for the reason you think, bushman. Medic desires someone he can never have, and it hurts him deeply. I will not inflict anyone else upon my friend while he is so pained.”  
  
Sniper sniffed. “That’s a pretty convenient excuse.”  
  
“I do not care.” Spy glowered into his glass, cursing the money he had spent on the wine. It did not taste anywhere near as good as it had a few minutes ago. He already suspected that Sniper was playing with him again – still, if he was telling the truth, the mysterious team mate would have to be warned off for now. With a knife, perhaps. “Hmph. You might as well tell me who it is, then. I will have to inform them that Medic is to be left alone.”  
  
Sniper grinned. “It’s yer funeral, mate – it’s Heavy.”  
  
Spy went cross-eyed, and sprayed wine across the room. He broke down, coughing and gasping, until Sniper slapped him on the back to help clear his throat.  
  
“That – that is not possible!” he said in a strangled voice. “It is not possible! Heavy hates homosexuals -”  
  
Sniper shook his head at him. “Ya must be bloody blind, Spook, haven’t you noticed the way he looks at Medic? I’ve never seen anyone so love-sick outside of an opera. ’S definitely not the look of a man who ain’t into other men, anyway.”  
  
Spy hadn’t. He had really only seen the way Heavy stared at him, with distaste and hatred. He was good to Medic, but that was only because Spy was very open about his preferences and Medic preferred to hide his – wasn’t it? But the thought that the big Russian actually wanted… He grabbed Sniper’s arm urgently. “Tell me how you know this, bushman, and do not leave even the slightest detail out!”  
  
Sniper looked surprised at his reaction. Clearly, he had not been expecting this. “I heard him talking to his gun about a month back -”  
  
“You speak Russian too?!” Spy couldn’t help the shrill tone; this was too much to take in in a single night.  
  
Sniper rolled his eyes. “When I was starting out, I took a few hits for the KGB – and are you really all that shocked that I know something other than English? I did jobs all over the bloody world before I came here!” He shook off his arm. “I don’t remember all of it, and my Russian isn’t great, but he said something like 'I wish the Doctor loved me as much as you do.’ He was standing below my nest during a lull in the fight, didn’t realize I was there at all. I think Medic had run off to help Demo or something. I started watching him after that.”  
  
It was like looking at a formless cloud, and suddenly being able to see the shape of a sailing ship. All at once, Heavy’s behaviour made sense – his hatred of Spy, the threats, the way he was overly protective and friendly towards Medic. The man was _jealous!_ Spy rubbed a hand across his face, staring into space for a moment as he put it all together. “My god, how did I not see it?”  
  
“I thought it was pretty obvious, actually. Why is this so important, Spook?” Sniper was quite puzzled now. If he was trying to play a game, Spy had certainly stopped playing by the rules.  
  
Spy leapt to his feet. “I must talk to Medic straight away! This cannot wait, not another second!” It was incredible, to think his friend had been so close to happiness all this time. Good grief, what had he and Medic looked like, when they had argued in a language Heavy didn’t understand and Spy had _punched_ the man he loved? No wonder he wanted to kill him.  
  
“Oh no you don’t - what the hell is going on?” Sniper stood up and grabbed his arm as he made for the door.  
  
Spy kept moving, and tried to pull his arm away. “Sniper, Medic is in love with Heavy!” he said, the notion of keeping the secret suddenly seeming ridiculous. “I must tell him – merde, he will not believe it. C'est incroyable.” He shook his head, thinking quickly. Medic was a pessimist, and likely not to listen. Much as he liked the Doctor, Spy knew he didn’t have the courage to approach Heavy directly. He was far too afraid of being hurt.  
  
There was only one other option.  
  
“Merde,” he repeated softly, almost talking to himself. “I must speak to Heavy instead, and take the chance that he may try to murder me. He probably believes that Medic and I are… But if I can convince him to go to him tonight…”  
  
He couldn’t discount the idea that Sniper was lying, but it all seemed to fit so well. It explained everything; it cast Heavy’s actions in a completely new light, made him look more vulnerable and human than Spy had ever thought possible. All the times he had tried to get Medic’s attention, or invited him to play poker, or engaged him in conversation… Medic usually made excuses and stayed away, too afraid that Heavy would figure out what he really wanted. That must have hurt him deeply, and Spy couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.  
  
“You’re going right now?” Sniper asked, looking rather baffled.  
  
Spy straightened his tie resolutely, as if he were preparing for battle; now nothing but professional and focused on the job at hand. “Sniper, this has been a very nice evening, as always, but I am afraid I will have to resume my attempts on your virtue some other day. I will not let the Doctor spend another night alone, not when I can do something about it. Feel free to finish the wine, of course – consider it a gift, if you like.”  
  
“He really means that much to you?” Sniper asked, his expression rather softer than before.  
  
Spy opened the door. He would have liked to stay, but… this was for Medic, the same man who he had comforted the day before, the one who cared enough about Spy to hit Heavy in the jaw. He looked at Sniper with grim determination. “He is my closest friend, and I have watched him suffer with a broken heart long enough.” A tiny smile tugged at his mouth as he thought of something amusing. “You know the French are all hopeless romantics, yes? I am, unfortunately, no different to any of my countrymen in that respect. Let us simply say that love is more important than my own crass desires. And now, I will bid you adieu.”  
  
He bowed, and intended to leave with a flourish if nothing else, but Sniper stopped him again with a swift tug on his arm. He pulled Spy around easily, and suddenly snaked one arm around his torso.  
  
“Maybe you could come back here, when you’re done, and we’ll drink the rest of the wine, and… see how things go, eh?” Sniper said, and his gaze was a lot more intense than usual. His eyes flickered over Spy’s face, as if he were looking for something.  
  
Spy lifted one hand and stroked his cheek. “You have had a change of heart, then?” he asked, feeling a little warmer than he should be as a result of the contact.  
  
“Ain’t many guys who’d face a beating for a friend,” Sniper said quietly. “I think I could be persuaded to like a guy like that a bit more, even if he is a smarmy Frenchman.” He squeezed Spy briefly, then let him go and stepped away. “Just don’t take too long, alright? It is getting late.”  
  
“I will go as fast as I can,” Spy said thickly. His hands twitched, wanting more touches, more closeness. He forced himself to walk out and close the door behind him, then sprinted off down the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

INTERLUDE THE SECOND: HEAVY  
  
Today was a bad day.  
  
Heavy sat on his bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands supporting his head. Sasha had been cleaned, and he had tidied his room for a lack of anything better to do, and now it was late enough that he should be thinking about going to sleep – but too many thoughts and feelings churned through his mind, too many things he’d rather not think made him despair of ever being happy again.

Ever since the party, Medic had been tense and almost fearful in battle, but today, he had taken any excuse to leave Heavy and attend to the rest of the team. He was openly, visibly afraid, and it had cost them several points when he was not close enough to Heavy to heal him. The worst part, the one thing that made his stomach lurch with unhappiness, was that he had not received a single Ubercharge during the whole course of the day.  
  
It was something of a matter of pride for the Doctor that he deploy at least one good Ubercharge each day, and Heavy was always the one who got it. He loved the feeling of invincibility, true, but more than that he loved the feeling of being connected to Medic, and moving and breathing as one. That golden feeling, that perfect attunement, was something reserved only for him that no one else could never have; a day without it made him feel even more lonely, dejected and hopeless than ever.  
  
A day without it because Medic was actively trying to avoid him out of fear made him want to kill himself.  
  
Heavy sighed, and rubbed his face. He would not be able to sleep properly tonight. All he could think about was how much he needed the Doctor, and how he would probably never have him now.  
  
No. Focus on something good. Forget what happened yesterday.  
  
Heavy would never forget the moment when he realized he had fallen in love. They had been caught unawares in the crossfire of a major push by the other team, and while the others had fallen back to regroup, Medic had taken several bullets in the leg. He’d fallen to the ground, raised his Blutsager to return fire, and told Heavy to keep running even though his face was white with pain. And Heavy hadn’t listened – he hadn’t even considered leaving him, not for a second. He dropped Sasha without hesitation, picked him up, and carried him with the pocks and whines of gunfire ringing behind them.  
  
As he sprinted for the cover of their base, all he had felt was a pair of trembling arms reaching up around his neck, and Medic’s face pressing into his chest. It had been perfect, like the Ubercharge, like there could be nothing more right in the world. When he reached Engineer’s dispenser and they were safe behind a sentry, it had been so, so hard to let him go.  
  
Only for love, Heavy thought, would he have abandoned his Sasha out on the battlefield.  
  
Getting Medic away from Spy had become all-important. Any time the two were together, the Doctor seemed to shy away from him, something that Heavy could only attribute to Spy’s bad influence. On the night of the party, he had dared to hope that Medic felt something for him – the man hadn’t been able to keep his hands to himself, after all, once he’d drunk a few beers. And the kiss… Heavy drifted for a moment, reliving it and enjoying it all over again. Totally unexpected, wonderfully passionate; desperately hungry, too, as if Medic were starving for affection. That was surprising, in a way, because he was an unbelievably good kisser and Heavy had to wonder what the hell Spy was doing if he wasn’t letting Medic kiss him.  
  
Whatever existed between him and Spy always held him back. Heavy had gone from resenting the Frenchman to disliking him intensely, and finally to outright hatred when he had dared to raise his hand to the Doctor. And… the Doctor had hit him to stop him from hurting Spy. Whatever hold he had on him – Heavy had no doubt that it was something terrible – was immensely strong, and now, he had no idea what to do.  
  
He couldn’t help thinking about it. He might have been content if Medic were happy with Spy, but he clearly wasn’t. Something was eating him away inside, giving him a hunted, scared expression any time he looked at Heavy. His heart ached at the thought of the Doctor being afraid of him. All he wanted was to hold him again, tell him that everything would be alright – and if Spy ever tried to hurt him again, Heavy would rip him limb from limb.  
  
He stared at the floor, his mind in a turmoil. The possibility of that ever happening had never looked so far away.  
  
There was a sharp knocking on his door. Heavy glared at it, not willing to talk to anyone at this late hour. He wanted to be left alone. “Go away!” he shouted. “Already going to bed!”  
  
The knocking was replaced by the voice he least wanted to hear. Spy was muffled, but it was clearly him – and that alone made Heavy clench his fists in anger. “Monsieur, I must speak to you immediately! Please open the door!”  
  
“I said GO AWAY! Not want to talk to you!”  
  
There was some indistinct swearing. “Heavy, if you will not open this door, I promise you I will pick the lock instead! I have something to tell you that cannot wait!”  
  
Heavy growled under his breath, and swiftly walked over to the door. He wrenched it open, tearing the lock out of the door frame in his rage, and grabbed Spy around the throat.  
  
“I have enough of leetle French svoloch! I break all bones in body!” Heavy snarled, as Spy struggled in the tightening grip. He was almost past the point of reason, faced with this fresh injustice. It wasn’t enough that this man tormented Medic – he had to inflict himself on Heavy too?  
  
“Med'c… n'ds… you,” Spy choked, trying to get air into his lungs. “M'st… b'lieve me…”  
  
Heavy was suddenly struck with a bolt of terror. “What have you done to Doctor?!” he shouted. “I kill you so hard Respawn not find all bits for year!” He shook the smaller man in anger, his grasp of English slipping away.  
  
“Nnn – Med'c… loves… you,” Spy gasped. “Please…”  
  
Heavy froze. All at once, the anger vanished in a rush of pure shock. He stared disbelievingly at Spy, heart starting to pound in his chest, as the man’s eyes rolled back in his head from lack of oxygen.  
  
He let go, and Spy collapsed on the floor. He was still coughing and rasping when Heavy grabbed the front of his suit and pulled him up to face him again. “What did you say?” he asked.  
  
Spy pushed weakly at his enormous hands, but Heavy was not going to let him go without an answer. “I said Medic loves you, you stupid Russian! You hate me for no reason! Can you please just listen to me for a moment?”  
  
This had to be a trick, it HAD to be, but Heavy knew how desperately he wanted to believe that it was true. His head told him to snap the insufferable bastard’s neck and go to bed, but his heart begged to hear what he had to say. He struggled with the decision, then decided on a compromise.  
  
“You talk two minutes. If I not like what you say, I kill you,” he said, slowly releasing his grip. It wouldn’t matter if he ran, Heavy told himself. He would find him sooner or later, and when he did, he would take his time.  
  
Spy stumbled backwards and leaned against the wall. He loosened his tie and rubbed at his sore throat before continuing, “Monsieur, I believe you think the Doctor and I are involved in some way – we are not. I am his close friend and nothing more,” he said, his voice shaky. “I have learned tonight that you have feelings for him. If I am not wrong, I ask you to go to him immediately and tell him so.”  
  
Heavy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, even as a thread of frightened hope wound its way through his mind. What game was he playing now? “Why would you ask this?”  
  
“Because he is my friend,” he said quietly. “You believe I am a monster of some sort, but nothing could be farther from the truth, Heavy! Medic’s heart is broken because he thinks you will never care for him, and it hurts me to see him in such pain.”  
  
“Why would Doktor think this?” he said, frowning in confusion. The thought of Medic with a broken heart – and he was the cause – was horrible, like a stab in the gut.  
  
Spy shrugged helplessly. “You obviously hate me. We both thought it was because of my preference for men. He is afraid that you will hate him too if you know how he feels.” He paused for a moment, then pulled off his balaclava and scrubbed his hair distractedly, as if he were thinking. The gesture was oddly honest for a man that Heavy believed was no better than pond scum.  
  
“If I am wrong about this, Monsieur, and if you do not feel that way about the Doctor, I beg you not to look at him any differently,” he said, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground. “He is a good man, and a loyal friend. He does not deserve your anger for feeling like he does.”  
  
Spy sounded so earnest that Heavy forgot for a moment that he despised him. Here and now, the image of a trained killer fell away to reveal a normal, very human person, who was worried and afraid for someone he cared about.  
  
Heavy said nothing. He did not trust Spy, not for a second, but something about what he said rang true. Medic had always kept him at arms length, except for when he had gotten drunk at the party – and then he had kissed Heavy with breathless, passionate abandon right in front of Spy without a second thought. Warmth spread through his face as the memory replayed in his mind.  
  
“Heh. You do care for him,” Spy said, drawing his attention again. “I am glad.” He half-smiled, then chuckled as he leaned his head back on the wall.  
  
Heavy felt a flare of anger, berating himself for believing that this was real and Spy wasn’t playing some kind of sick game. “What is so funny?” he snapped, lifting one fist threateningly.  
  
Spy rubbed his face with his balaclava. “I have been telling Medic for quite some time that he should simply confess his feelings for you, and see what happens. You hate the one person who has been trying to help you, Monsieur.” He pushed himself away from the wall, and dusted off his suit. “I have said as much as is needed. Again, I ask that you go to him tonight – the Doctor has suffered long enough, I think.”  
  
Spy began to walk away, and Heavy did not stop him. If his thoughts were in a turmoil before, they had progressed into a veritable cyclone now.  
  
“Oh, and Heavy?” Spy had stopped, and had turned to look at Heavy over his shoulder. “Do not hurt him.” There was little of any threat in his voice, but his eyes told a different story. Then he was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke as he activated his cloak.  
  
Heavy stepped out into the corridor, and pulled his broken door behind him. The latch plate was torn out of the wood, and it stopped it from closing completely. He stood in front of it, staring at the his hand as it gripped the handle.  
  
Medic loved him. MEDIC LOVED HIM. That one thought kept repeating in his mind, echoing through his heart and filling him with joy and fear. He could go to him and explain everything, and then they would be together – if Spy was telling the truth.  
  
If he was telling the truth. Heavy tried to look at it from every angle, tried to figure out what Spy could gain from this. There was so much he hadn’t said, like why he had punched Medic on the morning after the party. What if the Doctor really didn’t want him – what then? He would be humiliated at the very least, possibly the laughing stock of the base.  
  
No. Spy might be capable of that, but Medic was an honourable man. He would not mock Heavy for his feelings. He would let him down gently, if Heavy went to him with an offer of something more than friendship that he was not interested in. Was it worth the risk of rejection? If the Doctor really didn’t want him, he didn’t think he would ever feel happy again.  
  
He realized that he had already started to walk, his feet moving without any prompt from his brain. Again, his head insisted that this was a bad idea, that Spy could not be trusted, and that this could only end in pain. His heart shouted that he already knew Medic felt something for him – and he had to try. He HAD to. The alternative was nothing but more sleepless, unhappy nights with nothing but a single, brief, glorious memory to keep him warm.  
  
Heavy stopped outside Medic’s door. It was close to midnight, and the base was largely quiet. He steeled himself, feeling his heart thumping painfully in his chest, and knocked quietly.  
  
The sound of his fist on the wood was unbearably loud in the silent hall, but there was no response from inside the room. The seconds were drawn out into a minute or more, and Heavy paused, his hand raised to knock again. He was terrified, he realized – he had walked into bullet hailstorms more than once with nothing more than his flak jacket and the Medigun’s healing beam, and he was scared witless of what lay behind the door.  
  
He let his hand fall to the handle, and tested it gingerly. It was not locked. He turned it, and pushed it open.  
  
“Doctor?” he whispered. The room was dark, except for a thin beam of moonlight that came from the high window. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he heard a faint sound coming from the bed.  
  
Ah. Medic was here, but he was asleep. Heavy could see him now; the sheets were pushed down to his waist, showing off his bare chest, and one arm rested above his head. He was lying on his back, breath moving in and out slowly with a very gentle snoring.  
  
Heavy had closed the door and padded halfway across the room towards him before he noticed he had moved at all. His head had given up, except to offer some vague excuse he could use if someone found him here. Medic looked cold, and he had gone to pull the sheet up over him. Yes; that and nothing more. He was moving automatically now, his actions governed by his heart – and his heart wanted to be closer to the Doctor.  
  
He sat on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. He reached out, not really knowing what he was doing, and trailed a shaking finger down Medic’s cheek. His skin was soft, and warm, and just a little bit stubbly. He looked so peaceful that Heavy didn’t really want to wake him up.  
  
Medic made a soft noise, like a sigh, and turned his head. His cheek came to rest on Heavy’s fingers, his lips brushed the palm of his hand. The touch was intoxicating; he began to stroke Medic’s face with his thumb, feather-light and just barely ghosting over the edge of his mouth. He was beautiful, like this, even though Heavy would have normally hesitated to use the word to describe a man. So relaxed and natural. So unlike how he had looked today.  
  
Medic’s mouth twitched, and for a second he thought he had woken him up, but his breathing was still slow and regular. He sighed again, and murmured in his sleep. “Heavy…”  
  
 _The Doctor said his name._ Heavy felt his knees go weak. Maybe… maybe he was dreaming of something nice between them. This was something nice too, of course, but he wouldn’t remember this in the morning.  
  
His heart cut in again, demanding and insistent. He would remember if Heavy stayed with him.  
  
The enormity of the idea made his pulse roar. Stay. Here. In the Doctor’s room – in the Doctor’s _bed_ , good god. What’s the problem, his heart asked. You want this. You’re sure he wants it too. No more sleepless nights, remember? You would sleep well in your Doctor’s arms.  
  
Heavy stood up quickly, fear overcoming desire for a moment. His head wasn’t bothering to make any more suggestions – just by being here, he had clearly abandoned all reason. His heart still pushed him on, begging for more contact. What was the worst that could happen, it asked. If he rejects you, at least you will know the truth. If he doesn’t… Heavy felt his face grow hot.  
  
He looked down at Medic again, feeling more frightened than he had ever felt before, and then quickly pulled off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. Boots, pants and socks followed until he had stripped to his boxers. If he didn’t do this quickly, he would lose all courage and leave.  
  
Heavy carefully pulled the sheet back, and slipped into bed beside Medic. The springs protested again, and they seemed incredibly loud, but he still didn’t wake up. The bed wasn’t really big enough for two, but he wasn’t going to complain when Medic was this close, this warm, this inviting. Heavy’s chest touched the man’s shoulder as he reached down to pull the cover over them both. He lay on his side so that he could see his face, and agonised over whether to wrap his arms around him or not.  
  
Medic solved that particular dilemma by rolling over towards Heavy. He flinched, his heart in his throat for a second, then he was utterly delighted as the Doctor slipped one arm around him and draped one leg across his. He said something sleepily in German, and tucked his head under Heavy’s chin; Heavy could feel his slow, gentle breath on his skin, tickling his chest hair.  
  
It was wonderful. There was no other way to describe it. Heavy pulled him in close, and gently kissed the top of his head. Maybe it wouldn’t last; maybe Medic would push him away in the morning. None of it mattered now. He was holding and being held by the man he loved. It was simply wonderful.  
  
“Everything will be alright.” he whispered. Medic mumbled what sounded like his name again, and nuzzled the hollow of his throat.  
  
He stayed awake as long as he could, drinking in the sensation of Medic’s body against his, and finally fell into a deep, restful sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Medic drifted between sleep and waking, trying to hold on to the blissful feeling of whatever dream had blanketed his mind last night. Opening his eyes meant he would have to get up, and that would mean facing all the unpleasant memories lurking just out of sight. No, better to hold on to the half-real fragments of sensation that presented a much more palatable world, one full of the touch and smell and kiss of a lover.  
  
Mmm, he could still feel that; the touch of skin against his own, soft and warm. The smell of musky sweat filling his every breath, cloying and arousing. But the feeling of lips on his mouth was gone, faded with the light of the morning, and he would not have it again until the next night. The disappointment crushed him.

He sighed. The memory of the kiss with Heavy would have to suffice until he dreamed again, beer-addled as it was. He let it wash over him, hot and delicious – and like clockwork, the events of the last week flooded back into his mind, bringing a wave of sadness and disappointment.  
  
Medic cringed inwardly. He would have to get up now, if only to try to distract himself with menial tasks.  
  
The conscious world flowed back, carrying the sensations of a new day. He felt warm, Medic thought, far warmer than he should be. It was not unpleasant, of course; simply unusual.  
  
His breath suddenly caught in his throat. There was a body beside him. Arms around him. Legs tangled up with his. He could feel the chest moving up and down slowly under his own arm, thrown across a torso that was far too big to be anyone else but…  
  
Medic opened his eyes. His heart started to race uncontrollably, making his hands shake. The first thing he saw was skin, and the thick, corded muscle of the man’s neck. He pulled his head back, looking up and hardly believing that he was truly awake, and he saw Heavy’s sleeping face.  
  
His breath returned, but it was short and fast as he tried to take stock of what was going on through the rising panic. This was his room. The early morning light from the window was thin but certainly natural. The bed was still his own, the same one he woke up in every day, alone. Nothing had changed from the previous night except for the addition of Heavy, and - gott in himmel! They were both nearly naked. From the feel of it, he was only wearing his underwear, and Medic had his usual pajama pants. Their bodies were entwined, crushed together like they were desperate for the touch of another. He couldn’t move at all without waking the man up.  
  
He had imagined something like this only in the darkest depths of his fantasies. He curled his fingers, feeling the skin under his hand; it was as real as anything else he had ever known. Any number of terrifying scenarios presented themselves for consideration, not the least of which was that Heavy had been drugged with something, and in mere minutes he would wake and start asking some very awkward questions.  
  
He might get violent. How far did his hatred of homosexuals go? He adored Heavy, but if he had to defend himself, he had only his fists – and he was somewhat outclassed in that area. The likely outcome was that he would die or be beaten senseless. Medic began to tremble in fear, his voice lost to him, which was just as well. Any shout would wake him up.  
  
Nothing about this made any sense. Medic had no idea what to say to him – but the far more desperate part of him, the part that had urged him to kiss Heavy on the night of the party in spite of the consequences, offered a few interesting and undignified suggestions. He ignored them. He was more likely to beg for his life than for sex. But even while his heart thumped in his chest and he found it hard to breathe out of sheer panic, the sensation of the body next to his was overpowering, exhilarating. He had woken up in the arms of his love. Not even fear could change how much he wanted him.  
  
Heavy’s face was so close, and he looked so peaceful. His mouth was only a few inches away – did Medic dare…? He leaned closer, slowly and carefully, praying that he wouldn’t wake up. Just one small kiss, and it really would be a small one this time. Just something else to keep him warm during the lonely nights; a memory, unclouded by alcohol, of soft, lovely lips. It was worth any amount of pain.  
  
As their noses brushed together, Heavy’s eyelids twitched. Medic froze, fresh terror taking over his mind. Muscles clenched around him; he shut his eyes, expecting the worst, shaking so badly he thought he might die from fear alone. One giant hand lazily moved up to his face, and he flinched at the touch of fingers on his cheek.  
  
It was… gentle. Soothing. Medic slowly melted into the feeling of the fingertips brushing his skin, the thumb caressing his mouth. Such a simple thing, but it calmed him in a way that nothing else could, replacing the tension with loving warmth. His mind unravelled, his whole body relaxed. No one else could have such an effect on him. It seemed so natural to turn his head into the broad palm and let the hand cup his face. The fear dissolved as he kissed the skin that danced across his lips.  
  
The hand traced a line down Medic’s back and settled on his hip, fingers rubbing in little circles. He finally opened his eyes again to see Heavy looking at him with… what? Not anger, or hatred. Not even confusion. Pleasure, contentment, perhaps, while a small smile played across his features.  
  
“Good morning, Doktor,” he said softly. Medic couldn’t say a word in response, not with his thoughts being scattered by the feeling of the hand moving over his body, and their mouths being only a few inches apart. Heat spread from that point throughout his being and swiftly travelled to his face.  
  
“Does Doktor want me to go?” Heavy asked, the rumble of his voice making Medic’s stomach flop over. His grip tightened involuntarily – no! Please, please don’t go, stay here and hold me, kiss me, love me… Medic drew closer, mouth open, eyes pleading.  
  
“What does Doktor want?” he whispered, and Medic suddenly realized that it was not only his own heart that threatened to explode out of his chest. He could feel Heavy’s pulse race as if he had been running a marathon. Their groins were pressed together, and – shock nearly shutting down his mind - he could also feel some very physical reactions happening to _both_ of them.  
  
Something had happened last night, and it had changed everything. Medic couldn’t begin to understand what was going on and he didn’t dare question it, not now. Somehow his one and only wish had been granted; Heavy was here, in his bed, in his arms, and swiftly being consumed by the same desire that he himself had felt for far too long.  
  
Medic found his voice again. “You,” he croaked. “I vant you.” Heavy’s hand suddenly gripped his ass painfully, making him gasp with aching, boiling need. “Oh Gott, please, I vant you!” he cried out.  
  
Their lips finally collided, and it was everything Medic remembered and more. It was made hotter and sweeter by the feeling of hands on his body, stroking and touching in ways he had never been able to imagine. Heavy rolled onto his back and pulled him on top of him; Medic settled there, his legs splayed out to either side, grinding against him and both arms locked around his neck.  
  
Clothes. Clothes got in the way. His pants were made of thin cotton, but it was still far, far too much. Had to get rid of them. Get rid of those boxers. Feel skin against skin. But – gah, he couldn’t stop, not now! He’d waited and wanted for so long, and the taste of Heavy’s tongue was pure heaven wrapped around his; he couldn’t stop even if the base were burning down around them. He spared one hand to tug at his waistband, trying to pull it down without breaking contact with the other man’s crotch.  
  
Heavy levered himself up off the bed, and shucked off his underwear in one swift movement. Medic groaned, feeling the heat and rock-hardness of the other man’s erection suddenly slapping against his balls. He grabbed the fabric of his pants, consumed with the urgent need to get them off as soon as possible. Heavy must have felt it too, and he took hold of the waistband and pulled it down so hard that the material ripped.  
  
There were a few seconds of crazed fumbling and more tearing, then the remains of his pants were tossed onto the floor. Medic wrapped his arms around his neck again, nails digging into Heavy’s shoulders in ecstasy. Fire was building in his belly, already threatening to overwhelm his whole being with pleasure. Not yet, not yet, he thought, I want him inside me first, want to feel his heat. Medic whimpered as the head of Heavy’s cock bounced off his entrance.  
  
Heavy pulled his lips away for a moment, taking some deep breaths and trying to speak as Medic pressed his mouth with kisses. “Need stuff,” he said hoarsely, “otherwise will hurt -”  
  
Thank god for Spy. The lube was in his desk drawer, but the desk was on the other side of the room. Medic swore briefly – one of them would have to leave the bed to get it. He lifted himself up, body screaming in protest at the withdrawal. “I have,” he panted. “Jus’ – just vait, bitte.”  
  
He stumbled out of the bed, the cold air unpleasantly freezing the sweat on his skin. He had never moved so fast outside of the battlefield – a few quick steps to the desk, wrench the drawer open, grab the tiny tube, fly back to the arms of his Heavy. The big Russian sat up, pulled Medic onto his lap, and rewarded him with more hot kisses and touches.  
  
They should have taken a while to stretch him out a bit. It had been some time for them both, and Heavy was very well-endowed. Medic was no virgin, however, and they were both past the point of common sense; a deep, desperate hunger had infected their minds and obliterated all reason. No more foreplay. He didn’t care if it hurt, he didn’t care if he bled.  
  
The lube was applied and discarded on the floor. Medic sat astride him, his legs gripping Heavy’s waist, arms thrown around his shoulders. Heavy lifted him, guided him onto his slick member, and slowly began to slide into him.  
  
“Nnngg…” Medic shook with the pain, fingers clenching involuntarily. Oh god, he was _big_. Bigger than any other man he had ever been with. It would get better once he adjusted, but for now the agony swirled around his gut and dampened his pleasure. Every inch spread him open a little more, made him feel like he was being torn in two. When he reached the end, and Heavy was buried in him to the hilt, he felt hot tears dripping down his cheeks.  
  
“Shh, shh, Doktor,” Heavy said soothingly. He didn’t move, not yet. Medic couldn’t stop trembling as he begged inwardly for the pain to subside. “Shh, I make it better.”  
  
Heavy kissed him, softly and gently. He slid one hand down to stroke Medic, igniting the fire all over again. The minutes stretched out as the pain faded, and Medic found himself relaxing again, enjoying the touches and sensations. He began to move against Heavy on his own, ignoring the last lingering ache.  
  
The rhythm was slow out of necessity. Heavy didn’t want to hurt him more than he already had. Medic knew he could take it, though – when Heavy moved in just the right way, and hit just the right spot, he could hardly think around the rush of pleasure and started to beg incoherently in German.  
  
Heavy groaned and threw a hand out to brace himself on the bed, leaning back to get as much of his length in as possible. He kept one arm around Medic’s waist, holding him in place as he snapped his hips upwards again. Medic moaned and pleaded with every thrust, one hand on Heavy’s chest and the other jerking himself off. The fire in his body had turned into an inferno, a coursing river of heat that battered his mind to dust. This was everything, _everything_ , he had wanted; nothing in his imagination could have prepared him for it, not even if he had had years to dream.  
  
The orgasm hit him like a truck. Medic arched his back and cried out with the force of it. “Oh Gott, Heavy, ich liebe dich! Ich liebe di-aaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHH!” he screamed, waves of pleasure and desire crashing through him and leaving trails of fireworks across his vision. He collapsed against Heavy as the other man came, riding the end of his climax with the hot, wet feeling of semen spurting into his ass.  
  
They both descended into an endorphin-filled post-sex haze. Heavy pushed himself up, sat on the bed with his arms rather shakily wrapped around Medic. He didn’t pull out – he couldn’t, not until Medic moved, and he had no inclination to move just yet. He was happy to stay just as he was, his forehead resting on Heavy’s shoulder and his hands feeling the beat of their hearts slowing down.  
  
That had been too quick, he thought. He normally liked to take his time with sex, and make sure his partner was properly fulfilled. Medic didn’t think he had ever wanted it so badly that he had literally lost his mind, but this was a culmination of weeks, months even, of wanting and being denied. It didn’t come as that much of a surprise.  
  
The thought that did surprise him was that Heavy had been at least as desperate as him. Medic couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking, right now. He slid a hand around his neck, and pulled himself up to face the bigger man.  
  
Heavy immediately kissed him again, and it was still just as sweet as the first time. Medic returned the sentiment, stroked his cheek, felt the rough scrape of stubble against his lips. It was gentle, thankful affection from a man grateful to finally have something he had needed more than life itself.  
  
“I cannot believe you are real,” Medic murmured. “Zis feels too vunderful to be real.”  
  
Heavy chuckled, a deep rumble in the back of his throat. “I am real, Doktor. Is morning, see? This is not dream.” His hand resumed making little circles on his back, slow and reassuring.  
  
“Vhy are you here?” Medic asked, knowing that he still feared the answer. “I zhought you hated me.” His voice cracked as he spoke the words. He stared at the other man, searching his face with worry.  
  
Heavy held him closer. “I never hate you, Doktor. Is not possible I hate you,” he said, trailing kisses across Medic’s lips. “Believe this, yes? I am here because I want to be with you. Have always wanted, but thought you and Spy…”  
  
“You… vhat?” Medic said weakly. “Ve are friends, Heavy – alvays, only friends!”  
  
“Da, I am knowing this now. Spy come to me and tell me last night. He say, ‘Doktor needs you, go to him straight away.'” Heavy paused, deep in thought for a moment. “He… explain many things, but not why he hit you.”  
  
“It vas my fault – I accused him of being a bad friend. He vas right to be angry viz me.” Medic brushed his fingers across Heavy’s mouth. “Please, I have already forgiven him. He has been a better friend zhan I deserve, it seems.”  
  
It was unbelievable, almost too much to take in all at once. Medic struggled to understand exactly what had happened – Spy had found out about Heavy from somewhere, and taken the insane risk of approaching him directly for his friend’s sake. Whatever the chain of events, the end result was that he was so deliriously happy he could barely think straight.  
  
His love seemed to be struggling with something. He looked at Medic imploringly, his cheeks starting to go red. “Doktor, I must ask…” he started.  
  
“Ja?”  
  
“You really do want me?”  
  
Medic couldn’t help laughing. “Ja, I do, my big Russian bear! I vant you so much,” he said, hugging Heavy and planting kisses all over his face. “Feels like I have vanted for such a long time.”  
  
He held him close, and buried his face in Medic’s neck. Medic could feel the smile against his skin, and it gave him a rush of emotion almost as powerful as the orgasm. They wanted each other, they were together, and they were happy. The world could not be any more perfect.  
  
The feeling brought something more – the hunger returned, more powerful than ever. Medic touched his lips to Heavy’s chest, inhaling deeply and enjoying the smell of sweat and sex. His fingers moved to one of his broad nipples without any prompting, stroking it and playing with it unconsciously.  
  
“I have waited too long, Doktor,” Heavy said softly. His hand drifted down to Medic’s ass again. “Have waited to touch, and to kiss.” He squeezed, and Medic felt a thin thread of heat uncoiling in his gut. “To make love,” he whispered.  
  
His aching voice set Medic’s whole body aflame all over again. He gasped, feeling himself getting hard and feeling Heavy getting hard _inside him_ ; he thought he had felt pleasure before, but it could not compare to this. He didn’t even sound like himself any more. “Oh please, please make love to me, Heavy,” he panted. “Du bist die einzigen liebhaber ich will… Anyzing you vant, I vill give, ANYZING…”  
  
The fire burned like a furnace this time, blazing so hot that he felt like he could die. Heavy flipped him over, pressed him into the mattress, while Medic grabbed at the headboard to steady himself. The rhythm was fast and hard from the start, the bed shaking and rattling with the force of each thrust. They both moaned, cried out each other’s name, writhed in pure, animalistic desire; Medic finally gave up trying to touch or kiss and planted both hands on the bars, pushing down as hard as he could. He let his legs flail wildly until Heavy grabbed his thighs, shoved them forward and slammed into him. The Russian roared like a bull, and Medic started to scream through his second climax as he pounded the most sensitive part of his ass.  
  
In the aftermath, they lay together, exhausted and damp. Heavy’s breath was hot and quick against his neck. Medic couldn’t feel anything below his waist bar gentle, lazy waves of warmth and pleasure, and pressure where Heavy’s leg rested on him. He was content to drift, as he had when he was half-awake, enjoying the sensations that lingered in his body.  
  
“Doktor,” Heavy asked softly, when his breathing was back under control, “What is meaning thing you shout, 'ik lee-bah dik’? I think you say last night too, when you are asleep.”  
  
“Ich liebe dich,” Medic repeated, and smiled to himself. “It means 'I love you.'”  
  
Heavy pulled him into a bear hug, and kissed the side of his head. “Я люблю тебя,” he whispered. Medic frowned, and opened his mouth to ask what that meant – then he put two and two together, and his heart began to race all over again.  
  
“Really?” he asked, turning to look at Heavy.  
  
“Yes, Doktor, really,” he replied. “More than Sasha, even. More than anything.”  
  
Medic laughed again, joy bubbling uncontrollably out of him. He had never, in all his life, felt so happy; the despair that had poisoned his every waking hour seemed unreal now. He reached for Heavy’s face, pulled his head down, and lost himself in his lover’s lips.


	9. Chapter 9

They stayed in bed for hours. By mutual agreement, they finally decided to keep their hands out of the way for a while, because touching lead to stroking, and then groping, and before either of them knew it, rather noisy sex would ensue. It was lovely every time, but it was becoming exhausting.  
  
Medic was draped over Heavy, his arms folded on the bigger man’s chest and his cheek resting on his hands. Heavy had tucked his own arms up behind his head. They chatted quietly, questions and thoughts that they never would have said before suddenly spilling out freely.

“Vhy did you run avay, on ze night of ze party?” Medic asked. “Spy told me you left me viz him and ran off before he could say anyzing.”  
  
Heavy chuckled, a deep and throaty rumble that vibrated under Medic’s fingers. “Eh, I am enjoying kiss too much. I have reaction that I not want Spy to see. Had to run away quick to room to take care of it. If Spy were not there, I would have brought Doktor with me, kissed again…” He grinned, as Medic laughed at him.  
  
“I vould have loved every minute of it, meine geliebte russische,” he said contentedly. His hands twitched, wanting to reach out and touch Heavy’s face. Medic resisted the urge for now. “Strange to zink zat ve vere so close, and pure chance kept us apart.”  
  
“Is not important now, da? We are here. We are happy. Cannot ask for any more.”  
  
Medic smiled. “Ve still have to get out of bed at some point.” He turned his head to look at Heavy, resting his chin on his arms. “You know, I asked myself zen who vould have a man like me, all tired and beat up as I am.”  
  
Heavy stretched out his shoulders, and snorted in derision at that. “Doktor is being silly. Have many fine qualities – always fight so hard, even when team is losing. Always brave. Very easy to fall in love with, I am thinking.” He smiled mischievously and shifted his hips a little, making Medic acutely aware of his body. “Does not hurt that Doktor is also very sexy, of course.”  
  
Medic reached out and tapped him playfully on the nose. “Any more of zat and I vill have to let you do nice zings to me again, and ve vill never get up today at all.”  
  
“Would that be so bad?” Heavy reached down to hold him again, hands stroking up and down his back. “Does Doktor want me to stop?”  
  
He could feel himself melting into the touch. He sighed happily in response, and slid his arms up around his neck – Heavy’s stomach suddenly growled, loud and insistent. Medic laughed and levered himself up, then planted a kiss on his lover’s chin. “I zink ve can take zat as a sign, ja? Ve should go and get somezing to eat.”  
  
“We need shower first. Is okay?”  
  
Medic rolled off him and they both sat up, the sheet twisted around their waists. Heavy began to retrieve his clothes and his boots and get dressed, and Medic couldn’t help watching him for a few long moments before shaking himself and searching out a clean pair of pants and a shirt.  
  
In bed, the difference in size was not so noticeable. Standing side by side, however, it was impossible to miss how much bigger Heavy was than him. He wasn’t much taller, but he was so broad across the shoulders that it gave the illusion of him being a giant in comparison to Medic’s more normal frame. The way his muscles rippled as he pulled his shirt over his head – who could resist touching them, feeling them contract and relax under his skin? Medic paused again, eyes tracing the other man’s body. He’d always desired large men, and they didn’t come much bigger than Heavy.  
  
He smiled a silly, happy smile. All that power and strength, all for him and no one else. Medic stopped Heavy’s hands in the process of tucking his T-shirt in, and pulled him into a hug. He still smelled like sweat, musky and delicious.  
  
He kissed his neck and breathed in deeply. “Mine,” he sighed, “all mine.” Heavy squeezed him, let his hands drift all over Medic’s body, leaving trails of tingling heat. That was probably a mistake, of course. He moved from his neck to his lips, and the kisses became hotter and hungrier. He kept thinking that it wasn’t his fault, really – his self-control just died when Heavy touched him.  
  
“I change mind – we not leave yet,” Heavy breathed, pushing him back against his desk. Medic nodded, and he fumbled with his lover’s belt, all thoughts of getting breakfast or getting cleaned up forgotten. The bulge just behind the fabric was iron hard and already twitching with desire.  
  
“Just a qvick vun, zen ve go…” he mumbled, letting his own boxers and pants fall to his ankles. Heavy shoved him up onto the desk, knocking papers and books onto the floor, and gripped their erections in one giant hand. The sudden pressure made him moan and buck his hips into the soft skin, and his legs latched almost involuntarily around Heavy’s waist at the same time as his arms locked around his neck.  
  
Medic let his head roll back, barely thrusting as the other man’s fingers pulsed around his cock. He loved this, he loved _him_ , he could never, ever get tired of those hands on his body. Heavy’s other arm gripped his ass, giving him leverage to rock a little harder into his grasp.  
  
“Look at me, Doktor,” he growled, and Medic just had to obey. Their gazes locked, and he took in every twitch on Heavy’s face, every brief smile and grunt as his cheeks became red and shiny with sweat. God, he was gorgeous; every inch a warrior, even in ecstasy. Medic must have done something very good in a previous life to deserve this.  
  
He moaned, dragged his teeth across Heavy’s jaw and his nails across his back. Their shared breath was fast, out of control. Heavy suddenly swore in Russian, and used both hands to lift Medic off the desk entirely; Medic whined at the fingers digging into his buttocks. They rutted against each other crazily, all reason abandoned.  
  
“Oh, Heavy… oh, Gott, please, PLEASE!” Medic cried out, feeling desire building into a crescendo in his gut. “Fuck me, _fuck me_ …” A distant part of him noted that it was just ridiculous, the way he babbled on during sex. Under any other circumstances, he would have kept his mouth shut and retained his dignity – but he couldn’t, not here, not with him. He’d say anything as long as he kept holding him like this.  
  
Heavy jerked him upwards, then rammed into him so hard he yelped. The intense heat was enough to push Medic over the edge, and he bit down convulsively on the other man’s neck as he came. Heavy wasn’t far behind; it only took a few harsh thrusts for the now-familiar feeling of wet orgasmic pleasure to explode inside him.  
  
He was still standing, Medic realized dazedly a few minutes later. Still on his feet and supporting them both. He was incredible.  
  
“Mmm, Doktor,” Heavy murmured into his ear. “Better have shower and food before want again, da?”  
  
“Ja…” Medic sighed. Whether he could stand now, that was another question – but Heavy would probably carry him if he couldn’t. He let him slide down off his body, and Medic immediately grabbed onto him for support. His legs wobbled dangerously.  
  
“Hah, Doktor still leetle dizzy. Maybe too much sex?”  
  
Medic laughed at him. “Ach, just give me a minute – oh…” Heavy’s T-shirt was sticky and damp, and Medic had a corresponding patch on his bare stomach. He touched it gingerly. “Er, I do not zink I have anyzing zat vill fit you, mein liebe, and you cannot go out viz zat on.” He managed to stay upright on his own, and looked up at the other man sheepishly.  
  
Heavy shrugged and pulled it off, exposing his powerful chest. He dropped it on the floor. “I get clean shirt later. We go now?”  
  
Medic smiled, and traced one finger down his thick pectorals. He was completely distracted for a moment, enjoying the sensation of hair and skin and hard muscle. Heavy stopped his hand before it got to his abdomen. “Doktor?” he said again, clearly amused.  
  
He shook himself. “Yes. Of course.” He quickly pulled his clothes back on, feeling a little embarrassed. “Vhat time is it, anyvay?”  
  
“Is nearly lunchtime. We get sandviches – I have in fridge still. But shower first, so we not get food all sweaty.” He guided Medic out the door as soon as he had his boots on, his stomach grumbling loudly again.  
  
They managed to have a shower with nothing more than an intense make-out session, and a few whispered promises that they would come back some other day and really have fun. Somehow, Heavy never got as far as his room to get a fresh change of clothes, and they eventually wandered into the canteen as they were; one bare to the waist, and the other with his shirt open.  
  
Medic had tried to do up the buttons, but he was hampered by Heavy constantly undoing them again so he could slip his hands inside and wrap his arms around his waist. Eventually he admitted defeat, and just let him do whatever he wanted.  
  
Heavy practically inhaled two sandwiches before Medic finished half of his. He was in no hurry, now that the edge had been taken off his hunger. He poured himself a cup of hot coffee, and let Heavy pull him back into his arms and lean against the counter.  
  
The sex was fantastic, of course, but this… the quiet feeling of being loved, the gentle affection, made him feel like he had won every jackpot on earth. Medic rested his head against Heavy’s shoulder, felt his chest rising and falling behind him and his breath warming his neck. It was blissful. He could stand here all day, with Heavy’s arms keeping him warm and happy.  
  
Their reverie was interrupted by voices outside the canteen. Medic felt the hands on his waist move, as if to leave him, and he caught one quickly. “Do you care who knows?” he asked softly. “I do not. I am not ashamed of vhat I feel.”  
  
Heavy smiled, and kissed him on the cheek. “If Doktor does not mind, I do not either.” His hands settled down again, and he started to stroke Medic’s stomach with his thumb.  
  
“…telling you, man, Casablanca is one of the best films ever made – we gotta get it for HOLY SHIT!” Scout walked into the canteen, initially looking behind him while chatting to Engineer, but he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of Medic and Heavy. He accidentally elbowed Engineer in shock, and gaped at the pair in complete horror as his companion doubled over and gasped for breath.  
  
“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS FAGGOTY CRAP?!” he shrieked, pointing at them accusingly. “Ohmigod, don’t tell me that you – just because you’re friends with that French assfucker doesn’t mean you gotta do the shit he does! What the fuck, Doc?!”  
  
Heavy stiffened, but Medic just chuckled in a way that he knew would infuriate Scout. “Ah, kinder. So young and innocent.” He sipped his coffee, and reached up with one hand to stroke the back of Heavy’s neck. “You vould zink he vould be more… open… to zis type of zing, hmm?”  
  
“What the fuck does that mean?! I ain’t a faggot!” Scout’s voice was getting progressively higher and more strangled. Engineer had recovered, and he just stared at them with his cheeks rapidly getting more red. Medic took the opportunity to kiss Heavy for a few long seconds, seemingly ignoring the excitable Bostonian, before turning back to his coffee again as if nothing had happened.  
  
“OH GOD – I did NOT NEED TO SEE THAT!” Scout whirled around and grabbed Engineer by the straps of his overalls. “What the hell is going on, Engie?! You’ve got like a million degrees, man, you can figure this out! Is everyone turning gay or something?! C'MON, TELL ME!”  
  
He started to shake him frantically, while Engineer got more and more flustered. “Will you calm down, boy? There ain’t no way people can just be turned gay or somethin’ -”  
  
“Somezing in ze vater, perhaps?” Medic said helpfully.  
  
“…but… well… I dunno, maybe, but I’ve no idea how that’d even -”  
  
“OH MY GOD, THEY’RE TURNING US ALL INTO FAGGOTS!” Scout screamed. He suddenly realized how close he was to Engineer, and shoved him away in panic. He whipped out his baseball bat, clutching it frantically in front of him like a shield. “You stay the hell away from me! If any of you fuckers tries to stick your dick into my ass, I’ll kill you!”  
  
He sprinted out of the canteen as if the hosts of hell were chasing him, leaving Medic laughing and Engineer looking rather disgruntled. He glared at them in annoyance.  
  
“Goddammit, Medic, that was a lousy thing to do. He’s gonna be jumpy for a week, an’ I need his help with the film projector.”  
  
Medic wiped away a tear. Even Heavy had laughed a little under his breath. “Such is ze price of being close-minded.” He sighed in contentment and finished his coffee, setting his cup to one side. “Nozzing vill ruin my good mood today, not even a cranky little boy.”  
  
“That lil’ boy is supposed to be gettin’ the entertainment for next Friday.” Engineer pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “You pull any more of that an’ he’ll be dead from dehydration by then.”  
  
“He will respawn. Is no problem,” Heavy rumbled against Medic’s neck. He resumed rubbing his Doktor’s stomach, and Medic couldn’t help making a soft, throaty, happy noise.  
  
Engineer looked more than a little disgusted. “Ugh, that cutesy stuff is makin’ me feel sick – do you have to do it here?”  
  
“Engineer does not have to watch,” Heavy said, glaring back at him threateningly.  
  
“I’m not watching!” he snapped. “It’s kinda hard to miss two of your teammates half-naked an’ gettin’ frisky in the same room as you!”  
  
Heavy was ready to start shouting, but Medic just laughed again. “Vhy is your face so red, hm? I could almost zink you are enjoying it.” He ran his hands over Heavy’s arms, and looked at Engineer with a sultry smile. “For all you know, I have put somezing in ze vater.”  
  
“Oh no, you ain’t catchin’ me with the same crap – I ain’t as gullible as Scout, Doc, an’ I always suspected Heavy was into men.” He turned and walked back to the door. “Hell with this, I’ll come back to get some eats when you two are gone -”  
  
There was a loud, terrified scream from somewhere close by that stopped him in his tracks. All three men froze for a few seconds.  
  
“Zat vas Scout!” Medic said, suddenly feeling fearfully guilty. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him, just embarrass him. He was still a teammate, for all that he was annoying and stupid. What had the idiot done now? He left Heavy’s arms and rushed to the door as Engineer yanked it open – and Spy walked in, completely unconcerned.  
  
He strolled past them, wearing nothing but his balaclava and a pair of boxers, and apparently didn’t notice their shocked faces. “Does anyone know if there is something wrong with Scout? He has taken to screaming at people and running away when they ask him what time it is.”  
  
Engineer gaped at him. “What the hell are you doin’ in just your underwear, you crazy Frenchman?!”  
  
Spy sniffed at him. “Enjoying the cold air, if you must know. Is this a problem, labourer?”  
  
Engineer didn’t respond. He pulled his hard hat down over his eyes, grumbled something under his breath, and left without another word. They heard him calling for Scout as he walked away down the hall.  
  
Spy shrugged, and turned back to his friend, eyeing his general state of disarray and fact that Heavy was topless. “ _Has everyone gone a bit funny today?_ ”  
  
“ _No, they…._ ” Medic started in German, then stopped and continued in English. “No, everyzing is fine, my friend. Everyzing is just fine.”  
  
Spy’s gaze flicked from him to Heavy for a second, a small, hopeful smile on his face. “Then I can assume…?”  
  
Medic smiled warmly at him, feeling a rush of gratitude for what he had done the previous night. He reached out and hugged him, not caring that he was almost naked. “Zank you so much,” he whispered. “Just – vielen, vielen danke, Spy. I vill never be able to repay you.”  
  
Spy patted him on the back, his usual suave demeanour absent. “You would have done the same for me, Doctor. You are my friend, yes? I told you that means something more than it should.” He pushed Medic’s arms away, glancing at Heavy again. “Please, I think you are making your man a little jealous.”  
  
Heavy had approached them somewhat slowly, and there was a faint hint of that familiar tightness around his eyes. Medic quickly turned to him and found himself pulled back into his arms possessively, away from Spy. He stared at the Frenchman with a hard expression on his face before Medic kissed him, diverting his attention. “No more of zat, mein liebe,” he said softly. “I am yours alone. You have nozzing to be jealous about, and no more reason to be angry.”  
  
Heavy held him close, and Medic nuzzled his neck in a way he knew he liked. His grip eased a little, became gentle and pleasurable. He sighed happily, and began to rub Medic’s back in little circles.  
  
“Spy is hungry?” he asked finally.  
  
Spy had taken to rummaging in the fridge while they were having a moment together. “Ah… yes. I have not eaten yet today.”  
  
“Is spare sandvich left on top shelf. You can have.”  
  
Medic smiled, and kissed him again on the cheek. It didn’t look like much of a gesture of peace, but it was a start. It was only yesterday that Heavy had hated Spy, after all.  
  
His friend bowed as gracefully as a man in only his boxers could. “You are very kind, Monsieur. I appreciate it – and I am sure Sniper will appreciate it as well.”  
  
Medic grinned at him, while Heavy made a faint noise of surprise. “Can I assume you also had a good night, then?”  
  
Spy chuckled. He took the wrapped sandwich and plucked the mug with ’#1 Sniper’ written on it from the stack, and poured a cup of coffee. “I will tell you all about it some other time, my friend. For now, you must excuse me – I have a naked, hungry Australian waiting for me, and he has promised that we will go for round three if I bring him back some breakfast.”  
  
Medic started laughing as Spy waved goodbye and disappeared. Heavy looked at him, rather puzzled. “Spy and Sniper?”  
  
“I told you, you have nozzing to worry about, my big Russian bear,” Medic said, still smiling. “He has been lusting after ze bushman for some time now. It is good to see him so happy.”  
  
He kissed him to reassure him of his love. Medic felt himself losing control as it got deeper, and more passionate. Their tongues danced together, driving a rush of heat through his body all over again. Heavy’s hands were already under his shirt, and one slipped into his pants.  
  
“We go back to room, maybe have…” Heavy looked upwards, trying to work something out. “…Round eight, I am thinking? Have lost count.”  
  
Medic jumped onto him, hooking his legs around his hips and making Heavy stagger back in surprise as he caught him. “Your room is closer,” he moaned into his ear, and Heavy needed no further encouragement to grip his ass and leave the canteen post-haste.


	10. Epilogue: What about Spy and Sniper?

Spy could be as stealthy as a cat when he needed to be. He waited just around the corner of the hall, watching Heavy as he tried to close his now-broken door. It was a little voyeuristic, staying here to see what he would do, but Spy had to know that he hadn’t just thrown his best friend’s heart to the wolves. His gut instinct said that he was right, that Sniper had been truthful, but he was still a Spy - if anything, he needed to be sure.   
  
The big Russian just stood there, staring at the door handle. Spy willed him to start walking. Come on, he thought, you can do this. Medic needs you. I don’t care if you’re - 

He was afraid, he realized. Heavy, the impervious and largely unstoppable killing machine, was afraid. Spy shook his head in disbelief. It was still odd to think of him as being so real and human, and yet there he was, his face a mask of worry and fear. He seemed to be deep in thought.   
  
Spy was almost ready to go back and shove him when Heavy finally moved. He turned and walked off in the direction of Medic’s room, leaving the door ajar. Spy leaned back on the wall, breathing a deep sigh of relief and feeling exceptionally pleased that he had at least done all he could. It would be up to the Doctor now whether things worked themselves out or not.   
  
His throat clenched painfully, and Spy quickly put both hands over his mouth to stifle his coughing. He had to pray that Heavy had not heard him – he let his cloak drop and left as quickly as he could, not trusting himself to run while he couldn’t breathe well.   
  
Still, he swiftly brightened up. There was still something left of the night, and he could relate the whole event to Sniper. Spy felt a surge of guilt that he was still thinking about getting laid – he and Medic now owed the bushman an enormous debt, and although he seemed more amenable to Spy’s advances now, it would be rude to keep coming on to him so much. His painfully sore throat wasn’t helping his libido either. Tonight, perhaps, he would simply enjoy his company, and steal a few touches and maybe a kiss on his way back to his own room. There would be plenty of time later to advance the idea of a little mutual pleasure.   
  
He tucked his balaclava back into his pocket. There didn’t seem to be much point in putting it back on, and he couldn’t bear anything around the bruised skin of his neck.   
  
Spy was a little nervous when he approached Sniper’s door again. He couldn’t be asleep yet – it had only been a few minutes, if anything. He knocked, and was gratified to hear a muffled but still alert voice inside. He put on his best smile, and quickly slipped inside.   
  
Unfortunately, the witty line he had planned to say simply died on his tongue.   
  
Sniper had left the wine on the table, along with the glasses. He was stretched out on his bed, resting comfortably with his aviators pushed up onto his forehead and one leg bent at the knee. He had been reading his little book of poetry when Spy entered, and now he looked up at him with a challenge in his eyes and a smile of amusement on his lips. The only light was the bedside lamp, and it made his skin glow.   
  
He was naked. Very, very, naked. All six foot something of his lean body, just lying there and projecting the kind of sexual aura that he could sense from across the room; fine, tanned skin, well-defined muscles, hair in all the right places. Spy could see the quintessential treasure trail of fine black strands that started at his bellybutton and disappeared between his legs. He was miraculously free of scars, too – the only one that Spy could see was the broken line across his cheek and nose.   
  
He felt a familiar tingle in his groin, and took a step forward, licking his lips unconsciously. Sniper quickly snapped the book shut, and raised one cautionary finger.   
  
“Not another inch, mate. Not if you don’t want me to kick ya out.” He dropped the book to the floor and lifted his sunglasses off his head. He folded them up, and tapped them on his chin thoughtfully before placing them on his bedside table. “Ya can’t come over here while you’re still wearing clothes.”   
  
Spy’s hands flew to the buttons of his jacket, and again, Sniper stopped him. “Now, now. No rush, eh? Do it  _slowly_.” His voice drew out the word in a long, sensual drawl.   
  
Ah. This was a game. Spy smiled; he was good at games. When was the last time he had done a striptease, he wondered? The most memorable was certainly that incident in Vienna… Never mind, he thought. Keep your mind on the job at hand.   
  
“You like to watch, Monsieur?” he said, as he began to play with his buttons again.   
  
Sniper smiled back at him, his eyes now dark and filled with desire. “Yeah, I do… I bet ya do too, don’t ya, Spook? Bet you’d like to see something now.”   
  
“Maybe I do. What could you show me, bushman?”   
  
Sniper grinned evilly. He watched Spy’s jacket slither to the floor with a hungry expression on his face. Then he slowly drew up his other knee, and let his legs fall open to reveal his rapidly-growing erection. As Spy started pull off one glove with his teeth, he turned his head into the pillow and began to play with one of his nipples.   
  
And Spy watched, almost forgetting to keep going on his own clothes. Every time he removed something, Sniper would touch himself somewhere new; the other glove fell to the floor, and he stroked his hip, the waistcoat was discarded and he sucked on one of his fingers. The noises he made were soft and appreciative, so utterly wanton that Spy found his self-control taxed to the limit. He let his legs slide up and down the bed, rubbing his skin on the coarse blanket, all while watching Spy in turn as the blush of arousal crept across his cheeks.   
  
…This was not what he expected. Spy couldn’t believe that it was possible for another man to do this to him without even touching him, but he was already achingly hard. He had imagined something more energetic, more desperate, than this slow, torturous game. He had imagined himself driving Sniper over the edge, making him beg, making him scream -   
  
Spy’s shirt fell away, and Sniper reached down and traced one finger along the underside of his cock. His other hand played across his stomach and over his nipples again. The touch was ghost-like, but it twitched in response and Sniper lazily lifted his crotch a fraction, nothing but the tiniest thrust to tease them both. Spy lost the ability to speak or even think straight – it didn’t matter what he had wanted, or imagined, or that his neck still hurt quite a bit. The lust filtering through his mind almost made him consider jerking himself off right then and there, if he was not allowed near the bed yet.   
  
Just a little longer, he thought. Just – oh  _merde_ , it felt so good to unzip his pants. He groaned, eyes clenched shut, no longer willing or even able to control himself. The brief sensation of his hand brushing across his groin was almost more than he could bear.   
  
Suddenly, it all became clear. Sniper wasn’t getting off on him stripping – he was getting off on the effect he was having on the other man. Spy realized that he was being beaten at his own game, being toyed with as easily as he himself had done with other people. This shouldn’t be happening!He was the suave, sophisticated , cultured Spy, the one that men and women alike had swooned over. He should be the one in charge here!   
  
He just needed to hold it together a few minutes longer.   
  
He glanced back at Sniper, but the lanky Australian wasn’t even looking at him any more. He was looking down, watching the actions of his own body with curious amusement, playing with himself and sighing in pleasure. He took no notice of Spy’s very obvious state of need, but Spy suspected that was just an act. He was still paying some vague attention out of the corner of his eye.   
  
Spy kicked off his shoes, and let his pants drop to his ankles. Sniper gave a hum of approval, and stroked himself a little more urgently. As Spy’s hands drifted to his last article of clothing, his boxers, Sniper sucked his finger deeply again and slipped it down between his thighs. He moaned softly, and his buttocks suddenly clenched and slowly relaxed. He rested his feet flat on the bed and braced himself on his shoulders, his hips starting to rise and fall in a gentle rhythm as he fucked himself.   
  
Spy cracked. It was too much – he could either get over there and screw Sniper through the mattress, or he could soil his underwear right now. He struggled out of his boxers while hopping towards the bed, swearing under his breath, then fell on top of Sniper in a tangle of limbs.   
  
“You lose, Spook,” he chuckled, as Spy ground against him and whined for some kind of release. He lifted his ass, used his knees to draw Spy in close and caress his calves with his feet, whispered in his ear. “That means ya have to give me what I want, and tonight, I want ya to bugger me senseless.”   
  
Oh god, he couldn’t say no to that. Spy sat up and hauled Sniper’s legs up to rest on his shoulders. His hands were shaking and they didn’t have nearly enough lubrication, but working himself into the other’s body felt too agonizingly good to care. He bent him him double, and met almost no resistance – he did yoga, of course, the man could twist himself into a pretzel if he felt like it, and that meant that Spy could drive into him more deeply than he ever had into any other human being. It was so hot and tight that he knew he couldn’t last more than a minute or two, so Spy decided to give it everything he had and pound his brains out.   
  
Sniper tucked his arms above his head, and let Spy do all the work. He closed his eyes, biting his lip with a smile of victory as the thrusts pushed him back and forth on the bed. Spy almost wanted to slap that stupid smirk off his face, but he couldn’t have stopped for the world at this point – all he could do was gasp and growl and swear, hands digging into the blankets and sweat dripping off his nose. For probably the first time, he just let himself go and did what his most base animal urges wanted him to do; to fuck someone else as hard as he could.   
  
A swift intake of breath was the only warning he had before Sniper came. His body clenched and shivered around Spy, and he suddenly threw his arms around his neck and pulled him in for a rough kiss. Spy hissed in pain and was ready to pull away, before his own orgasm rocketed through him and blotted out all sensation other than a pure, roaring wave of ecstasy. He rode it out as best he could, keeping up the pace as long as his legs would allow, and shoved his tongue down Sniper’s throat.   
  
After the last few weak thrusts, Sniper let go and moved his hands to his shoulders instead. They didn’t move, and didn’t stop kissing. The taste of wine and strawberries still lingered in his mouth, and Spy wasn’t quite ready to let it go just yet; it was sweet, oddly unique, and something that would always be connected to the Australian in his mind. Unusual and full of hidden depth, like the man himself…   
  
He slipped to one side, and Sniper made room for him. Various bodily fluids cooled on their bodies, and his skin prickled in the cold. He caught a handful of the blanket, and pulled it up over them both. Sniper pulled him in close, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He seemed happy to stay as they were, for now.   
  
“I was not expecting that,” Spy said quietly. He really wanted a cigarette now.   
  
Sniper laughed. “The stripping thing? A ladyboy in Bangkok did it to me. Don’t feel too bad, I didn’t even get as far as my pants before we were going at it.”   
  
“No, I mean I was not expecting sex at all, bushman,” Spy said with some amusement. “You certainly came around faster than I had hoped.”   
  
He shrugged. “I just got a gut feeling about ya, Spook. I figured if you came back in one piece, you deserved something good.”   
  
“You were not worried that I would lie?”   
  
“Well… nah, not really. Not after ya nearly choked yourself when I told you about Heavy, and damn near ran out to go talk to him. Didn’t feel like ya were lying then, so I figured, hey, he’s probably not lying about him and Medic being together, so why not shag him?”   
  
Spy smiled. “Thank you,” he said, and he really meant it. This was turning into a remarkably good night, apart from the bruises around his throat. He touched them gingerly, and winced a little.   
  
Sniper pushed up his chin, looking at the ring of purple marks around his neck. “They hurt much?”   
  
“It could be worse. He was going to kill me.” Spy batted his hand away, and briefly wished that he could go to Medic for a little Medigun treatment.   
  
“That’s probably one hell of a story.”   
  
“There is little to tell. I managed to convey to him that Medic loves him before he snapped my neck. He let me talk then, and he is going to the Doctor’s room now as far as I know.”   
  
Sniper grinned, and started to rub Spy’s shoulder contentedly. “Think it’ll turn out alright?”   
  
“I hope so. I will find out in the morning, I suppose. Heavy does love him back, that much I am sure of.” Spy untangled himself and sat up, stretching out his arms. He looked down at Sniper and smiled warmly. “Thank you again for a lovely evening. I should probably get back to my own room now, assuming I can find all my clothes…”   
  
Sniper was staring at him in disbelief. “Are you seriously planning to leave?”   
  
“Well, yes, actually.” Spy scrubbed his hair in embarrassment. “We have had our fun, and I do not want to impose on you any further.”   
  
Sniper put one hand to his forehead and swore under his breath. “You stupid wanker… c'mere, yer going nowhere!” He grabbed Spy roughly and pulled him down again, this time keeping him captive against his chest. Spy couldn’t bring himself to protest too much, even though this was somewhat out of character for him. He usually made his conquest and then left, reasoning that he could sleep better in a bed that he knew was secure, and they were usually happy to see him go. He hadn’t actually slept beside someone in years.   
  
“This bed is really not made for more than one person, Monsieur,” he said, his voice rather muffled.   
  
“Tough, I like to cuddle after I get laid.” Sniper reached over and switched off the lamp, and the room went dark. “Ya leave when I say ya can. Now go to sleep.”   
  
Spy smiled to himself. This night had graduated from remarkably good to one of the best he had ever had.


	11. Bonus Chapter: Movie Night

On Friday night, the usual poker game was postponed in favor of watching ‘Casablanca’ through Engineer’s modified dispenser. The team retired to the rec room, along with drinks and snacks, to wait for Engineer to make a few last-minute modifications and for Scout to finish rigging up a sheet across one wall.   
  
Medic arrived late, having been held up by making popcorn. He found that most of the seats were already taken, much to his annoyance. Demo and Scout had taken the smaller couch, even though the runner still kept his bat close to hand and had a tendency to whack anyone who got too close. Engineer and Soldier occupied the other, larger couch, with the toolbox stuck between them and the dispenser sitting on the floor in front of it. Pyro had taken one armchair, and Heavy had the other. Spy and Sniper were on the way, apparently, but Medic had no illusions as to what was holding them up. 

Scout smirked at him unkindly. “Looks like you’re sitting on the floor, Doc McFaggot,” he sneered. He still hadn’t forgiven Medic for being gay, and he took every opportunity to insult and annoy him now that Engineer had managed to mostly convince him that it wasn’t something he could catch, like the flu. Medic hardly cared, of course. He simply didn’t heal the yappy little twit in battle, and if Scout found his more frequent deaths – and the subsequent effect on his score – irritating, he hadn’t said anything yet.   
  
Medic put one hand to his head theatrically, and pretended to be distressed. “Oh no, however could zis happen? Zere are no seats left! Zis is a catastrophe!” He turned to Heavy, who was watching him in amusement. “Herr Heavy, I am so sorry to bozzer you, but may I share your seat? I vill happily share my popcorn viz you in exchange.”   
  
“Of course, Doktor. Is no problem.” Heavy sat up a little and held out his hands.   
  
Medic gave him the bowl, then kicked off his boots and crawled into Heavy’s lap. There was just about enough room for him to sit sideways with his legs tucked in beside the other man. He wriggled a bit to get comfortable, leaning in against Heavy’s chest and feeling one giant, warm arm wrap around his side. They shared a brief kiss, to a chorus of groans and disgusted noises from Engineer, Soldier and Scout.   
  
“Goddamnit, can you queers just quit it for one evening?!” Engineer snapped. “Some of us are tryin’ to work here!”   
  
Heavy ignored him, and began to munch the popcorn. Medic snuggled in closer, and made his feelings known by making a rude gesture at them all.   
  
It had only been a week, but all at once it seemed like a few hours and at the same time, a hundred years. They had spent every night together and almost every second in each other’s company. Whispered conversations, shared jokes, and brief touches were the things that Medic remembered more vividly; the nights were a blur of heat and passion that left him content and exhausted. At mealtimes, their hands would creep across the table towards each other, wanting to feel the softness of skin against skin. Soldier had taken to ranting about regulations at them, and threatening to cut off their fingers if they didn’t 'control their deviant urges’ while other people were trying to eat.   
  
Soldier didn’t seem to care as long as wasn’t in his face, thankfully. Medic would have paid no attention normally, but when the American got particularly vocal during dinner the day before yesterday, he actually withdrew his hands and apologized. Heavy had been a little hurt that his lover would take any notice of a deranged lunatic like Soldier – until Medic started to play footsie with him under the table, and gave him a look that promised some wonderfully filthy things later to make up for it.   
  
Every now and then when they were alone, whether in a room or walking down a corridor or even during a brief lull in the fighting, Heavy would turn and grab him and kiss him senseless. It was almost a reminder, for both of them, that this wasn’t just some overheated dream. He’d been nervous about being caught at first, but when Medic showed that he clearly didn’t care, Heavy had stopped caring too, leading to another incident where Scout ran out of the kitchen screaming about how his eyes were bleeding.   
  
Well, they could all scream now if they liked. Medic breathed in Heavy’s smell, felt the warmth of his body, listened to the sound of the popcorn crunching quietly as he ate it. He was happy, and he felt as if he had never really been happy until Heavy had entered his life and his bed.   
  
Spy and Sniper appeared just as the dispenser whirred into life, and a flickering picture took shape on the sheet. There was another chorus, of approval this time. As Sniper grumbled and went off to find some chairs, Spy caught Medic’s eye and winked at him with a smile.   
  
Sniper returned, and he and Spy sat at the back. The lights were switched off, and tinny music took over the room.   
  
It was a good movie, Medic thought, but he lost interest at the same time as Heavy. This was probably due to the fact that Heavy had finished the popcorn and wanted something else to do with his hands, and Casablanca was not quite as compelling as Medic sitting on top of him. He covertly tugged Medic’s shirt out of his pants, and started to feel him up while trying not to be too obvious about it.   
  
Ooh, that felt nice. Medic glanced at the others out of the corner of his eye, but they were glued to the screen now that that Swedish actress had appeared. Well – not everyone, of course. Spy was smoking pensively and making some whispered comment to Sniper, who in turn was leaning over a little too closely and smiling. The room was dark, the only light coming from the projector. They were partially obscured by the armchair. They would have to be quiet.   
  
He let himself relax, and hummed softly in appreciation against the side of Heavy’s neck. His hand stroked Medic’s stomach, playing around his bellybutton and reaching up to flick his nipples. This was definitely going to get embarrassing fast; it didn’t take much to turn him on, and by now, Heavy knew nearly every sensitive spot on his body.   
  
Damn. Medic was already half-hard, but they had at least another hour of this movie to sit through, and much as he didn’t care about his team mates’ opinions, their obvious disgust would spoil the mood if he lost control and tried to tear Heavy’s clothes off. He smiled, remembering what had happened on Monday. After a rushed dinner, they had barely made it as far as Heavy’s room…   
  
Medic reluctantly caught his hands, and pulled them out from under his shirt. “No more, or I vill not be able to stop myself, mein liebe,” he whispered. “Just vatch ze movie, and later ve vill come back vhen ze rest have gone to sleep and… do some nice zings.”   
  
“Promise?” Heavy murmured, his lips drifting across Medic’s cheek.   
  
“Ja, I promise.” He ran one finger down Heavy’s chest. “And zen ve vill break zis chair, and leave ze bits for ze team to puzzle over in ze morning.”   
  
His grip tightened, then relaxed. Medic felt Heavy’s heartbeat pounding in his chest, and the fact that he could have such an effect on him was electrifying. He willed the feeling away, for now, and settled for sliding his arms around him. They turned back to the movie, trying to pay some kind of attention, although Medic was still distracted by the feeling of Heavy’s thumb stroking his side.   
  
He didn’t realize he had become drowsy until his eyes fluttered open again, and the scene had changed completely. Something with an aeroplane? Eh, he didn’t care. It had been a long day, and he was tired. The tinny music of the movie was annoying, just enough to stop him from falling asleep completely. Medic closed his eyes again, and tried to ignore it.   
  
Hm. It wasn’t just the music. He could hear a faint thumping noise, just barely audible over the sounds of Casablanca. It was insistent, irritating, and erratic enough that it probably wasn’t a machine somewhere else in the base. Medic looked around, trying to place where it was coming from.   
  
The first thing he noticed was that Spy and Sniper had disappeared. The second thing he noticed was that the noise was getting a little louder, and Engineer and Soldier were looking around as well. The third thing he noticed was the small cleaning closet just behind the couch, next to where his friend had been sitting.   
  
“What’s that noise?” The Texan asked.   
  
Soldier stared at the dispenser-projector suspiciously. “Is this thing broken?”   
  
“Hell no, that ain’t comin’ from there.” Engineer stood up and turned around a few times, listening carefully. “Where’s Spy and Sniper?”   
  
“Perhaps it is your imagination, Herr Engineer?” Medic said hastily, putting a hand over Heavy’s mouth to stop him from saying something. “I do not hear anyzing.”   
  
“Aye, I dunno wut yer talkin’ aboot either, I cannae hear anythin’,” Demo said, taking another swig from his scrumpy.   
  
“You maggots might be deaf, but I am a proud American operating at 110% and I can hear it too!” Soldier snarled.   
  
“Yeah, so can I.” Scout gripped his faithful bat, and looked nervously at the door. “Hey, you don’t think it’s the other team trying to get in here, do you?”   
  
“Naw, it’s closer'n that,” Engineer said thoughtfully. His gaze fell on the closet, and he walked around the couch and reached out to grip the handle. Medic was tempted to cover his eyes. He was sure he knew what was going on, and it could not end well.   
  
The door sprang open under the pressure of two bodies, and Spy and Sniper came flying out and crashed into the back of the couch. Spy nearly fell over it, and was only stopped by Sniper’s arm around him and his legs wrapped around the Australian’s waist. As it was, he toppled over backwards and nearly pulled Sniper down with him.   
  
Their pants were elsewhere. Sniper’s glasses were knocked askew. They were both red-faced and breathing hard, and although Spy at least looked somewhat embarrassed, Sniper was trying to look as if it were completely normal to bust out of a closet half-naked and balls deep in another man.   
  
Everyone had frozen in shock. Predictably enough, Soldier started shouting first.   
  
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” he screamed, going red in the face with apoplexy.   
  
Sniper pulled Spy up, but they made no movement to separate. Spy kept his legs around him, and let his weight rest on the back of the couch. He finally had to hook one arm around Sniper’s neck to keep his balance. “I would think that it would be obvious, Monsieur. Or should we have a discussion on the birds and the bees now, with practical demonstrations?”   
  
Soldier shook one finger under his nose. “Do NOT think you can mock me, you goddamn cheese-eating pinko! I will see you court-martialled for public indecency and thrown out of -”   
  
“Ah shaddup, this isn’t the bloody army!” Sniper said angrily. “And we’re busy, in case you haven’t noticed.” He shifted in a way that made Spy suddenly gasp and grab his shirt. He growled under his breath, and their faces came close again.   
  
They were not going to stop, Medic realized. He quickly whispered to Heavy, “Ve should go.” Ho nodded in response, and Medic got up and grabbed his boots.   
  
Engineer and Soldier both began to shout at the same time. Demo had started laughing, and Pyro stormed out in disgust at having the end of the movie ruined for him. Scout, though, was just staring in mute horror. Medic chuckled at the thought of what nightmares he might have from now on.   
  
“EEF YOU DON’T WANT TO WITNESS WHAT EES ABOUT TO HAPPEN, GET ZE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW!” Spy screamed over the din, his normally refined accent falling apart. Sniper bit him on the neck, and his hips were starting to move involuntarily again. They were too far gone to stop. Medic averted his eyes and pulled Heavy’s arm, urging him towards the door.   
  
Engineer was the first out, followed by Soldier, who was being uncharacteristically sane in quitting a battle he had no hope of winning. Demo trundled out, grinning to himself but in no particular hurry. Scout was still motionless, however, his eyes wide and his knuckles white around his bat. Medic decided to take pity on him, and nudged Heavy. “Grab ze boy too.”   
  
He plucked him from the couch by the scruff of his neck, and carried him under one arm as they slipped outside. He deposited Scout on the floor outside the rec room as Medic shut the door. They could be some time, it seemed. The others had already made themselves scarce.   
  
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Scout whined, hugging his bat and curling up into a ball. “Sniper too, man… it’s spreading, soon we won’t be able to fight because we’ll be doing each other all the time…”   
  
“Zis is getting ridiculous,” Medic said. “You vould zink he vould get ze idea by now – zis is not somezing zat spreads, dummkopf. It is a preference, such as your liking for pancakes!” He tried to pull Scout up, but got a blow from the bat for his trouble and swore under his breath. “Stupid child!”   
  
Heavy caught the bat and lifted Scout up without effort, despite his struggles. “Scout is being silly, is all. I am always liking men, and I still fight good.” He patted him on the head. “Is nothing to worry about.”   
  
Medic was about to make some cutting remark to pay back the little brat for the bruise on his arm, until he spotted the bulge in Scout’s crotch. He smiled evilly, and pointed at him. “Or perhaps you do have somezing to vorry about, if you are zis excited. Anyzing you vould like to talk about, Scout?”   
  
He yelped, and covered himself with one hand before dropping the bat and sprinting away. Medic’s laughter followed him down the corridor. “Ah, kinder,” he said to himself.   
  
Heavy looked concerned. “Does Doktor think he is really…”   
  
“Ach, nein. He is young, and zere are no vomen here. A common problem, but nozzing to be concerned about.” He picked up the sounds of some very heated sex coming from the rec room, and grinned. “Vun problem zat Spy and Sniper do not have, I must say.”   
  
“Us also,” Heavy said, and he kissed Medic on the cheek. They strolled down the corridor, hand in hand, towards Medic’s room.   
  
“Zey make a cute couple, I zink,” he said in an offhand way. Medic still wasn’t sure what Heavy thought of Spy, considering their less than ideal history. “I am glad zat Spy is having so much fun, at least.”   
  
“Spy is… brave, to not stop when found. Must like Sniper very much.” Heavy squeezed his hand, and smiled slyly at him. “Doktor maybe do same?”   
  
Medic laughed. “I am not an exhibitionist, mein liebe! Ze only person I vill put on a show for is you, and only if you ask nicely.” He was quickly struck with the thought of doing a striptease for Heavy, and immediately filed it away for later consideration.   
  
Heavy suddenly swept him up in his arms, and kissed him long and hard. Once again, for a few short moments, the world consisted of nothing but their lips, and tongues, and hands drifting across skin. It was perfect and wonderful every time.   
  
“ Я люблю тебя,” Heavy murmured in his ear, and although he had heard it quite a bit over the last week, Medic knew he would never get tired of it, or of the feeling of warmth and love it evoked in his heart.


End file.
